


After Advent

by kitsune13tamlin



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Cloti - Freeform, F/M, Found Family, and struggles, kept family, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune13tamlin/pseuds/kitsune13tamlin
Summary: the road home isn't always easy, but it still leads home.  And that makes all the difference.  Set after the events of Advent Children Complete.  Because it wasn't the end of the world, only an interruption on the way there.  Collection of my short one-shots brought over from ffnet.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 47
Kudos: 297





	1. Taken Away

He was happy.

It scared the hell out of him.

_don't trust it…_

He didn't get 'happy' often in his life. Bursts, rays, brilliant engulfing beams of it – yes. Continual, steady, reliable happiness… no.

_hell no…_

But here it was, threatening him with its – with its –

Its mundanity.

It had started when he reached the beginning of Edge.

_no… no, before that…_

It had started when he finally turned Fenrir toward Edge.

_no… before that…_

It had started that morning when he'd woken up before the sun, still in the dark, and smelled coffee and known she… _Tifa_ … she was already awake and waiting in the kitchen for him. He had known that he would check on the sleeping children and then go down to her and sit and listen to her talk and tease and send him out the door with food he always forgot to eat.

Happy. He'd woken up happy.

_damn it all…_

The warm, quiet pleasure had faded on the way out the door but not by much. Fenrir was waiting for him and he was still warm with coffee and her goodbye hug. It had stayed with him like a worm in his stomach all day as his customers had been grateful -

_too grateful. I'm not a hero anymore. Gave that up. never really was…_

For their packages and letters. Then the warmth had woken and grown when he'd turned Fenrir home…

_home. She's always meant home…_

Home to the children and her… _Tifa_ …. The entire drive back it had wiggled in his stomach and when he'd reached Edge it had worked its way upward until it was threatening his heart as he'd seen –

_Heaven_

Seventh Heaven come into view. He had walked in the door and heard the children…

_up too late… past their bedtime… so glad…_

Heard the children call his name and both of them – both of them – had come rushing over to latch on to him.

_Marlene…she's not scared of me anymore…_

Marlene had wrapped around his waist. Denzel, shyer, more reserved, eyes in his heart, heart in his eyes, had managed to restrain himself and only clutch at Cloud's hand with both of his. He'd ruffled their hair, squeezed Marlene's shoulder, lifted Denzel easily off the floor with just one arm while the boy beamed with pleasure and held on like life…

_love…_

To his grip. The warmth, the worm in his heart, had struggled upward into his throat and threatened to choke him…

_The way it does every night…_

And then she'd said 'welcome home' as she came out of the kitchen…

_beautiful… she gets more beautiful every day… every time I see her…how can she be so beautiful and still smile at me that way…_

He'd wanted her wrapped around him too, the way the children were, but he couldn't ask. Could never ask. Couldn't even dare show it for fear…

_Break… everything will break… idiot for wanting… stop thinking it…_

But she'd known anyway and she'd come over with that smile…

_**mine** _ _… that's my smile… I'm the only one she smiles at that way…_

And wrapped her arms around him and it had been…

_heaven… his very own Promised Land...  
_

She made everything heaven. Haven. Home. Marlene had giggled and he'd lowered his head, just his head –

_idiot_

And shut his eyes and exhaled as he felt the soft skin of her shoulder against his chin and she'd laughed so quiet and soft and stroked her fingers through his hair gently. Tender like a mother, familiar and relaxed with the motion like a best friend, sending pleasure down his back and shoulders like a -

_like a sweetheart…_

The worm in his throat had wrapped around his heart and his stomach as well

_how did it grow so much every day…_

And it had squeezed. It made him lift his free hand and gently, carefully, wrap his fingers around her delicate ribs. Made him think of how good it would feel if he'd take her in his arms the way he let himself sometimes.

_idiot_

Made him think of how nice it would be to never have to let go.

She'd saved him, the way she did every night, stepping back with her lips brushing his cheek and his head had turned the way it did every night so his lips were there when her cheek drew back and he could feel her skin brush against them for a brief moment. The worm in charge of his entire chest and throat and stomach and head and the dry tight place behind his eyes had started to pulse like a heart beat the way it always did and he'd let her go and the children had dragged him over to the table to show him what they'd done that day.

_even though it's past their bedtime… so glad…_

She'd brought him dinner and then watched to make sure he ate, sitting across the table from him and smiling their shared, secret smile over the children and their big – BIG – events of the day.

_how did she always know when he'd forgotten to stop for lunch…_

It had been warm and perfect and quiet and content. No large explosions of bliss, no thundering drums of joy, no breathless squeeze of heart numbing pleasure – just… quiet, content, stable, peace and happiness to simply exist in the bubble of life and liveliness he found himself in.

Insidious because it promised it would always be just this way for him. That he would always be allowed to come back to it.

Again and again.

Year after year.

On nights like that, he felt the traitorous shaft of hope in his chest when he looked at Denzel. That, maybe, they could win again. That, maybe tomorrow, the cure for the black bruise on the boy's forehead and the hidden ones on his thin, little chest would come. He'd find it, or one of his contacts would, or a total stranger would but - someone would and Denzel would be able to wake up each morning without pain or fear. That, maybe, this time, everything would work out.

_hate that…_

_love that…_

_idiot…_

Life didn't work that way. Not for anyone and particularly not for him. You only got so many lucky breaks and they'd used up all of theirs two years ago.

A moment too late, too soon…

An unobservant guard…

_a dropped key…_

Cloud Strife didn't trust luck for the same reason he didn't trust happiness. He'd had that. He'd been there. And it had always been taken away.

His childhood hadn't been happy. It hadn't been bad, but it hadn't been happy. He'd learned to recognize and appreciate the rays of joy when they came. The late night sound of the piano next door through his open bedroom window. The smell of his mother's turnovers. The bite of the cold, clean air on the mountain and the same bite in the water of its streams.

He'd gone to Shinra.

_The best worse decision I've ever made_

And he hadn't been happy there either. He hadn't been unhappy. He'd enjoyed the moments of pleasure. Laughing with his squad mates. A letter from home. The secret satisfaction when the other guys talked about their girls and he'd remembered the one he hoped would one day be his. Zack…

Zack…

His first experience with easy happiness that stayed around and didn't leave. His first best friend. The first time he'd realized he hadn't been happy all the time before and realized how nice it was to be that way now.

_idiot_

_naïve idiot_

He'd… failed that. Failed his friend. Been too weak, too slow

too late

Even now he didn't remember it completely and some nights it almost drove him mad, twisting around inside his head. He only had fragmented bits and pieces of that nightmare in his memory even now. Flashes of faces or voices, jarring movement, green haze over his vision making him sick to his stomach. Certain shades of green still made him sick to his stomach…

He'd been too weak though, even with his mako-infused body. Too weak in his mind. He'd been too weak and Zack had died and Cloud had shattered and –

And **not** even _remembered_ it!

He'd forgotten his best friend and, on a more forgivable level, he'd forgotten what being regularly happy had felt like and so… when he'd found consistent happiness again… he hadn't thought to guard against it. He'd let it in and accepted it.

_naïve_

He'd been regularly happy with Aeris. So consistently happy that he'd thought it was love. She hadn't asked past who he thought he was, hadn't – until the very end – looked deeper than what he showed her, had laughed and not been demanding and she'd…

She'd reminded him of Zack.

Not in personality but in the simple acceptance and the easy friendship. She'd wanted more than friendship but it had still come with the offer of friendship and there had been no sense of failure that had lurked in him whenever he was with Tifa those first few weeks.

his failure… at the time, he just hadn't remembered that he'd failed her…

He hadn't had to think with Aeris and that had made him happy. He'd been happy.

He'd made promises he should have known, if he'd only remembered, that he'd broken already before and would never be able to keep now…

He'd been happy and then it had been taken away from him again. And this time he hadn't forgotten and he'd felt the ache of…

Of not being happy.

It made him sound like such a self-centered bastard. Who was he to worry about whether he was happy or not? Who was he to miss it when he wasn't happy anymore? After everything everyone else had been through, everything that had been lost – what kind of absolute ass thought him not being happy was important?

_it's not…_

_I still know when I'm happy and when I'm not…_

He'd lost being happy again – and so much more.

So much more…

And, again, it had been because he wasn't strong enough. Mentally. He had been too late. Again.

_again_

_again_

_all over again_

_still_

He'd been too late, too weak, and he'd let someone he cared about die. Again. His sins were his failures… his weaknesses… their deaths. His fault. Every single time… the deaths were his fault. People he'd loved had suffered because they'd counted on him and he'd been too weak and too late to save them.

He loved Tifa and the children.

_**Gaia** _ _… how he loved Tifa and the children…_

So much worse and stronger and more painful and wonderful and ruthless than he'd ever loved anyone or anything before. The worm in his chest that grew each day threatened to strangle him sometimes and when he was away from them for more than a day it ate little pieces out of his heart to keep itself alive. His family…

_my family…_

He'd never been so desperate to protect anything in his life before. It seemed so small and fragile and vulnerable. His family, _**his**_ family… and an entire world that could destroy it in a thousand different ways. Death lurking like a specter over Denzel's shoulder every day, and he'd already watched one little girl sliced open by a madman for being brave and beautiful and foolish. Marlene was Barret's daughter to the core, but she was Tifa's as well and sometimes even… sometimes…

_she gets her steely-eyed glare from me…_

_shouldn't be proud of that…_

Even Tifa –

_especially Tifa…_

How much of her luck had she already used up in their quest to stop Sephiroth? How many more lucky breaks could one human possibly have left to them before Fate decided enough was enough? They'd, both of them, already used up the last of their luck. There wouldn't be any more breaks coming. He knew it. And it terrified him. Because Tifa was still brave and beautiful and foolish when it came to defending the ones she loved.

_and I lo- I lov- damn it, I'll break if I admit it…_

_or she'll break… I'll break her…_

So many horrible things in the world and Cloud knew he hadn't even seen them all. So much that could irreplaceably damage or destroy his family. Sometimes… Sometimes, despite the pain in his heart, he found himself stalling going home. Because... some nights, for no reason at all, he was afraid to go home. Afraid that he'd walk in the door and they'd all be dead.

That he would have, again, been too late –

Shit. He sounded like such a head-case.

Just because some nights, randomly, for again no reason, he'd wake up choking in the dark with his cheeks wet with tears he didn't remember giving away and visions of swords through the stomachs of the children or bullet holes leaking a raining river from Tifa –

He'd wake up and need to – _need to_ – walk that little distance across the hall.

_Don't run. It'll wake Tifa up if you run._

Walk across the hall and open the doors with hands that weren't steady just to look at them. Sometimes –

_memories of blood trails on the floor… of the way burning bodies smelled as a village went up in flames…_

_screams heard through the glass of a test tube…_

Sometimes he had to physically walk into the rooms. Touch them. Watch them breath. He'd woken Tifa up several nights ago, standing by the window in the dark of a moonless night just watching her breath. She'd almost kicked his legs out from under him before she'd realized who he was. Then she'd thrown a pillow at him and told him to come to bed.

_how did she always know…_

He'd slept in her arms that night, wrapped in the soft warmth of her bed and her body, and even though it had been chaste it had been the most intimate moment of his entire life so far.

_want to do that every night._

_don't want the clothes in the way next time…_

_Idiot._

_There's not supposed to be a next time._

... _  
_

… _want a next time…_

The more he loved his family, the deeper in love with them he fell…

The more frightened he became.

Because he'd been happy this way before and it had destroyed him when he'd had it taken away from him. And he hadn't been nearly as happy, as consistently, consumingly happy as he was now. Twice before –

No… more than twice…

Many times more than twice…

Many times before he'd failed. Failed when it really mattered, when he, if he _was_ a hero, should have been unable to fail – he'd failed and it had utterly ruined the lives of the people he'd been meant to protect. It had utterly shattered him. When it counted most – when it mattered most to him… _him_. Not the universe or the planet or all things good and kind but him personally, Cloud Strife, **him** … When it mattered most to him, he always failed. It was his one consistent. He was always too late and he was always too weak. Always.

And so his mother died.

And Zack died.

And Aeris died.

And… who died next…?

Who was left for him to fail but this? His family? His precious, impossible, misfit, patchwork, loved and adored, impossibly necessary family?

What was left to be taken from him but them?

It terrified him. Terrified him as if he was a small child. Terrified him deep in his bones, right at the core of his heart. He'd been happy before. He'd loved and been loved before. And he'd had it taken away.

Another consistent in his life.

His body had been turned into a living weapon. Twisted and warped and put back together. Filled so full of chemicals and magic and mako that he shouldn't even have a soul inside it anymore. It should be strong enough, after all that had been paid for it, to protect the ones that mattered most to him.

It never had been.

He was always too late.

He was always too weak.

What he loved was always taken away from him and he was too weak and too slow to stop it.

It had taken the thick black pus leaking from what he'd thought was only a bruise to freeze him on his way to the shower the next morning.

Because, despite everything he'd been through –

It had never once occurred to Cloud Strife that, this time, he would be the one taken away from them.


	2. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> could be considered a sequel to 'Home' over in my Moments of Almost fic collection

He stood outside the door and told himself to breathe.

_Just –_

_breathe…_

The geostigma was gone. Sephiroth had been sent back to wherever the hell he'd come from in the first place. The remnants had all been wiped out. There were no more Summons lurking in narrow alleys or blowing up parts of the city. No more bits of Jenova loose.

_At least as far as we know. Rufus doesn't exactly win any prizes for sparkling honestly…Overdramatic twit._

The rain had put out most of the fires.

The world was free to return to its ordinary madness. He and his friends were all heroes.

_Again. Whoopee…_

He was a hero. Whether he wanted to be or not. A hero should be able to handle this, he told himself.

_Just breathe, Cloud. This isn't that hard._

_idiot_

He frowned at the closed door and shifted the pillow under his arm.

So much had changed. So much. He stared at the wood of the door.

Just… knock. Just lift your hand and knock.

He exhaled instead and shut his eyes for a minute, resisting the temptation to simply thump his forehead against the surface of the wood instead.

This shouldn't be this hard.

Her eyes… _Gaia_ …. What her eyes had done to him earlier today at the pool in the church…

He needed to concentrate. He needed to focus on what he was going to say. He needed –

_her…_

_damn it. I just need_ _**her** _ _._

His hand was twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open before he had time to think about it. The same way his bare feet carried him silently into the room without the need for instructions from his head.

She was sitting on the small indent of her window, somehow making herself tiny enough to fit the awkward space. The only light in the room came from that window and it painted her long, pale legs and her bare arms in running colors of blue. She was so beautiful she made his throat go dry and her loose hair, like liquid shadows, slipped over her bare shoulders as she turned her head to look at him in surprise. Eyes as black as stars widened and then moved down to the pillow under his arm before flickering back up and looking at him a bit wider still.

A perverse part of him wanted to grin at that look.

_I do that to her. Just me._

_idiot_

_she's adorable when she's off balance._

_don't push it, Strife._

_no… do push it…_

"Tifa…" he said her name because saying her name was the one thing in his life that had always made sense. Her eyes softened at the sound of it and she unwrapped the long, pale fingers she'd had twined around her upraised legs.

"Cloud?"

His heart inhaled the sound of her voice on his name and he dropped the pillow on the bed as he walked around it to join her. She was already in her nightclothes, already smelling of soap and lotion and mint. It was late after all. Everyone had wanted to celebrate.

All he'd wanted to do was hold his family in his arms and tell the rest of the world to fuck off.

Instead he had a downstairs full of disreputable characters they called their friends sleeping off booze and adrenaline and a guy with a gun for an arm sleeping on the floor in between the children's beds in the room next to this one.

_life isn't really that bad._

The thought made him smile, just a little, and when her fingers flickered in the dim light, he reached down automatically to take them in his own. They felt delicate and frail and infinitely strong and capable. He rubbed his thumb over the tips of them and heard the soft sound she unconsciously made. Felt the way her fingers tightened around his and, after a moment, the way she leaned, just a little, to rest against his side as they both looked out the window.

_I love you…_

_idiot_

The silence between them was soft and comfortable and the rain continued to slip down the glass of the window. He had always been better at confessing at night. Something about the dark softened him or his defenses or just his stiff, awkward tongue. Without looking down at her, he very quietly stated:

"I want to sleep here tonight."

Her head came up in surprise and she looked at him but he tucked his chin and refused to meet her eyes. Feeling –

_I sound like a little kid…_

_I sound like I want something more than just sleep._

_I do want –_

_shut._

_up._

"Cloud?"

He didn't answer her. Couldn't answer her. He'd done so much, hurt her in so many ways through the years. He didn't have a right to ask what he was. Didn't even have a right to want to ask it. Not anymore. But he asked. Because he couldn't stop himself anymore. Because none of the reasons he shouldn't ask were strong enough anymore. Because…

because he needed her too much. And he couldn't risk losing it all again. Couldn't risk losing her.

He'd learned that from the geostigma and the remnants at least. He – they – didn't have forever.

All they really had for sure was right now.

Waiting until things were finally right, meant waiting one last breath too long.

Her fingers moved against his and he looked down to see her watching their linked hands.

"For – " she cut herself off and he watched her gather up her courage and lift her eyes to his. In the dark, they were full of whispers and wishes.

"For just tonight?" she asked softly and there were layers and layers in her soft voice. He didn't try to look away from her eyes. Instead his lips briefly pressed together and then he quietly confessed:

"For always?"

He watched something in her break and it was beautiful and slow. Her mouth softened and, shyly, began to curve. Hope and hurt warred in her eyes, belief and mistrust. He deserved that.

He deserved a hell of a lot worse.

"Promise?" it came out of her heart and tore his. Because it was so young and so reluctant and so sweet and so feminine and helpless and vulnerable. He lifted their linked fingers to his lips and, gently, almost shyly, kissed the tips of hers. Because, in a way, they were starting all over again. Again. He pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, hers trapped between the heat of his skin and that chilled surface. As if he were trying to touch the stars that were out there beyond the rain. Stars that had heard another promise so many years ago. He leaned down, just a little, and slipped his free arm around her waist to pull her up. The windowsill was too thin and she had nothing to support her but him.

His eyes didn't leave hers.

_nothing more beautiful in the entire world… or the worlds beyond this world…_

"I promise."

And she believed him. Even though he didn't deserve it. He saw it slowly drawing all the light in the world into the depths of her beautiful eyes. She believed him.

He gathered her up into his arms and it was awkward at this angle and right and she wound around him, completely trusting and accepting.

He would never, not in his most shining moment, deserve her. Deserve this.

He was tired of letting that stop him.

The bed gave a little bit under his weight as he settled down onto it, reminding him of how much trouble he and Barret had gone through to find something nice for her, even if they'd pretended, when they'd brought it home, that they'd just picked it up somewhere random. Embarrassed to be caught doting on her. She'd known anyway even if only her eyes had given it away. Slowly, laying back on it now, he thought they'd done a good job finding a comfortable bed.

_better than mine._

_I hate my bed._

_it's small and flat and –_

_and lonely…_

_Like hers much better. Like her being in it better._

She made a soft, content noise when he settled down and he let her slip off of him.

_not yet…_

_soon though._

For tonight it was enough that she was in his arms, in his bed

_her bed._

Their bed. It was enough that she didn't move out of his arms. It was enough that she turned and tucked into him and her arm slipped over his chest. Enough to feel her breath against his skin and feel her warmth and the press of her body through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and loose night pants.

It was enough and it was more than he deserved.

"Cloud?" it was a murmur, a sigh, a whisper and he made a humming noise in his throat to show he was listening. She didn't say anything else though and it made him smile. Her breathing started to slow as he stroked fingers softly over her hair and, when he was sure she was asleep, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Because he had heard what she had really said when she'd said his name. And in the dark of the night, he exhaled his answer.

"I love you too…"


	3. Here With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't see this aspect mentioned often, so here's a fic about it. The end refers to questions in The Case of Tifa that SE published.

"You left because you were sick, because you didn't want to be a burden."

His hand stroked her cheek and she closed her eyes and tipped her chin to make it easier for him. She always tried to make things easier for him. He made a soft sound in his throat. It was a hum and a laugh and sad all at the same time and in response to her move, his hand slid into her hair and cradled the back of her head.

"You always make me sound better than I am," he breathed it against her forehead as he drew her closer and his other arm slid around her waist. "Tifa…"

She had once told him that words weren't the only way to show someone how you felt. She'd lied. Every time he said her name, the way he felt filled the single exhale and overflowed it like warm golden honey-wine. It was one of the reasons he said her name so much. Even when they'd first meet again in Midgar, all those years and lifetimes ago, for the longest time her name had been the only one he would say. Over and over again...

He was warm, always warm, and she curled her fingers in the knit of his shirt and leaned into that. Into the familiar smell and warmth and feel of him and even though she'd survived without it while he'd been gone, a part of her wouldn't wake without that near her. His lips touched her forehead again and they were parted slightly, resting against her –

But then his head dipped and his golden hair fell across his eyes. His fingers wove in her hair and sent shivers over her skin.

"I left because I didn't want to hurt you."

"Leaving us hurt more than – "

"No." He stopped her with the soft, implacable note in his velvet voice and the way his fingers on the back of her head tightened imperceptibly. "Tifa…" his fingers slipped down to rub a light circle against the back of her neck, melting her bones and muscles.

"Tifa… I heard him. In my head. I heard him in my head the way I used to when we were hunting him the first time."

Next to the fire he always gave her with his touch, the ice shivered in great icicles down through her at his words and sent sharp crystals whirling through her blood, filling her lungs with cold. It surprised her when her breath didn't mist as she exhaled in shock and protest. His fingers didn't stop their slow, comforting movement against her and where he held her, his gloved hand slipped under the very edge of the hem of her shirt to rest reassuringly against her skin. Her hands spread on his chest and she tipped her head back in the cup of his palm to look at him with wide eyes.

"Sephiroth…"

Unlike the witches from the mountain fairytales of their childhood, naming the demon didn't invite his presence. It made him manageable and definable. It stole his mystery and made him familiar. Cloud's blue on blue eyes found hers and they were guilty and scared and sad… and yet not as guilty and scared and sad as she had been afraid they would be.

"I would have left because I was sick," he agreed. "But I wouldn't have been able to stay away from you, all of you, for as long as I did. I'm too weak, I need your comfort too much, for that." His low voice was a soft rumble. It was what he'd told the children. It was what she'd assumed for that matter and he'd let her. But he'd never actually told her -

Cloud never lied to her. Never. He _had_ learned to simply not volunteer information though…

"I thought – I thought you didn't want to hurt us with knowing you were – you were sick," she stumbled over it, only able to say it now because it was over. He was safe. Denzel was safe. And – because they were, so was the entire family. "I thought you were running, just for a little while, until you could settle it inside yourself."

Had she known he'd left and it wasn't just a prolonged delivery? Of course. Had she assumed he had left for good? Of course not. Cloud always came back to her. Even when he didn't know what he was doing, Cloud always came back to her. The edges of his lips shifted weakly and he moved her so that she was cradled against his chest, half in his lap, so that he could hold her in the safe shelter of his arms and feel how she didn't resist it, how she trusted him completely to hold her that way. Tifa Lockhart… sake and sugar, silk and steel. And she only – ever – went helpless and soft for him…

"That too," he agreed. Because she was right. He would have run anyway. Not far, not for long, but he was still the Cloud Strife that needed to internalize problems, that needed to deal with them on his own first before he felt comfortable presenting them to anyone else. He still felt the need to be more and better and invincible for the people that he protected even if his head told him life didn't work out that way. So he would have run – but he wouldn't have stayed away. Not from her. Not from their children. Not from his home. Not for long. Except –

"I couldn't risk you. Or the children. Not after what happened the last time." His eyes searched hers and he saw the way her heart bled over into those smoke and ruby depths. It hurt and healed his own heart at the same time and he reached up to reverently brush his bare fingers over her cheek. She rested her head in the cradle of his arm and shoulder and looked up at him. Bleeding for him. Peaceful and trusting.

He'd hurt her. He wasn't blind. He'd make it right. But for now, for tonight, so suddenly free of the fear and the pain and the worry, there was only each other. The children were celebrating with Barret, Seventh Heaven was closed. This was just for them. Tomorrow she'd worry if he would come home after work. Tomorrow he'd come home early to prove that he would. Tomorrow the children would wake up and peek into his room to make sure his bags were still empty and left in his closet and Denzel would pretend he wasn't touching his forehead to double check and –

And tomorrow.

Tonight was for relief and themselves. For touching to prove to themselves and each other that they were still alive, still together, still whole. And – for him at least – it was time for a confession he would only give once and only to the woman in his arms.

"I remember," she told him and it was only because she did, because she was her, that he would ever admit what he just had. She was the only person he would ever tell and his shame, his secret, that ugly flaw in his very soul, would only ever be for her to see.

"I hurt Aerith the last time," his voice didn't break but it stumbled, the memory still fractured and disjointed in his head and yet sharply painful because he knew it was true. He had hurt the gentle Cetra he should have been protecting. "He used me to hurt her. He tried to use me to kill her. I couldn't – I would never risk you or the children that way. When I heard his voice… I knew I had to stay away. She forgave me for hurting her. I would never be able to forgive myself if I hurt one of you."

The pain of being away from his family… _his family_ … had been impossible. He hadn't even been able to answer when they'd called on the phone because he'd known – he'd known if he did, he'd go home. Go home to the woman that carried his heart, to the children that filled it… he'd go home. And what if Sephiroth used him to hurt them?

Her fingers found his face and he realized he'd been drowning in her wine and shadow eyes for a while, so soft and bottomless and warm. The roughened, soft tips of her slender fingers traced his features and he saw her smile. Saw her lips soften for him and he almost forgot the conversation as the desire to kiss her washed over him in wave after slow wave.

"You didn't," she whispered and his heart lurched to hear… pride? in her voice…

"You didn't," she repeated. "Not once. He couldn't use you, not even once. Not this whole time…"

It bemused him, enchanted him, felled him with one swift stroke.

"How do you know?" he couldn't help but ask, feeling like a little boy. Her smile was there again and just for him as the tip of a single finger lightly tapped the tip of his nose.

"Cloud Strife, do you think I can't recognize guilt in your eyes by now? You were afraid he would use you, but I don't see any guilt in your eyes that he did. You're whole now. He can't call you his puppet or manipulate you anymore. You're too strong."

She gave him the last sentence like a velvet wrapped sword for him to carry and – he believed it. He believed it because she did. Because she… only she… would know. It made the edges of his lips shift shyly and the single move was a sword stroke of its own to her heart but she cherished it and held it close. His body shifted over hers and he laid her down on her back, the rug under her and her bed he'd been leaning against the leg of behind them as he settled down over her.

Her almost lover…

Her always, only almost lover…

"I had an attack," his voice was low as his body fit itself to hers the way it always did, the way his was the only one that ever could. His hand slid down to cup her thigh and bring her leg up. She knew he liked her legs. She saw the way he watched them when he thought she wasn't noticing… and the way he flushed when he realized she had. She let him and her arms slipped up to wind around his shoulders.

"In the church. When I was with you. When you were – "

She nodded and saved him from having to say the words. Soothed away the way it made his heart stop even now. She'd been so still, so frail.

So his…

He inhaled and slipped an arm under her head to cradle it, to give him an excuse to feel her silk soft hair over his skin.

"I thought he was going to use me, to hurt you. It was the first time I fought one of the attacks." The pain, the feeling of 'other', the terrifying familiarity of blacking out and not knowing what happened between that and opening his eyes in a different surrounding. The sheer terror that he might have done something – might have hurt her. The near silent exhale the only relief he'd let himself have when he'd seen her breathing and safe next to him on Marlene's bed….

The fact that, even though he'd known he should have, he hadn't been able to leave once he'd found himself near her again. The way he'd waited in balanced pain for her to find the words he knew he needed to hear but couldn't find for himself in his tangle of self-inflicted isolation and feelings of uselessness…

"I said I wasn't fit to protect anyone because I wasn't. Tifa, I could have been used."

Only she loved him enough to understand the horror and violation of that. Only she loved him enough to take it into herself and look at him without a flicker of fear or disgust or pity. Only her.

Even the 'sainted' Aerith had run away from him. She just hadn't run far enough...

"You weren't," her fingers stroked his face, slipped through his hair and lightly tugged it to draw him down to her. He went with an exhale and rested his head in the curve of her shoulder. Her fingers sent shivers and soothing warmth down his neck and shoulders as they played with the restless spikes in his hair. Her heart beat under him and he could hear it as well as feel it. "You were Cloud Strife and you kicked his ass. Again."

It made him laugh, surprising him, and wrinkling his eyes shut, as the almost silent sound escape his lips past his suddenly showing teeth. He felt her laughter, just as silent as well. They'd gotten good at sharing their silences. His arms tightened around her.

As children they'd dreamed of him becoming her hero. It was only later that he'd figured it out. She said he'd always been her hero. He knew it was because she made him that way. He slid one hand up her vest and tugged the zipper down. They had a strict 'clothes on' relationship. It was how they got away with being close physically without stepping over any lines.

He thought he was ready, finally ready, to challenge a few of those lines.

He was Cloud Strife. And he thought, maybe, finally, he was stronger than the ghosts that lived inside him.

She inhaled in surprise and he heard her heart beat go broken but she laid her hand over his on the zipper and it was permission, not protest. It made him smile against her and he linked her fingers over the top of his before tugging the zipper the rest of the way free and then sliding his hand down to the silk fabric of her shirt to trace circles over her delicate ribs, unhindered by leather.

"Are you…" she paused and he heard the way her voice fluttered between emotions. He heard the whispered laughter in it though and knew he was going to get away with this. "Are you coping a feel, Cloud Strife?"

He made a serious humming sound against her and she felt the way it vibrated down into the very core of her bones. His thumb flicked out to threaten and yet not touch anything more intimate than the curve of her rib. Which was starting to feel intimate enough.

"It seems like I finally don't have to worry about anyone else showing up in my head at the wrong time."

She shut her eyes and didn't know whether to smile or chide. How could he say such horrible, teasing, serious lines with such a calm, 'straight' voice? Especially when she _knew_ he was joking with her… and dead serious at the same time.

He shifted them both then and she was lying on top of him with his hands on her hips and his blue eyes under hers were dark and full of light at the same time. Was it really this simple?

Yes.

And no.

But sometimes… yes.

"I'm still not right inside," he warned and she looked down at him with eyes that said she knew. With eyes that said she loved him, not 'in spite of' or even 'because of', but 'just the same'.

"You are pretty messed up," she told him and because it was her, and only her, it made him laugh. Because she would know. And, for her, it was all right.

She cupped his face in her hands and his eyes found hers, sank into hers, lost themselves in hers – but it was all right. Because she'd lost herself in that blue fire long ago herself and each time she fell into it again, it rekindled the light in her own soul.

"Yes," he told her in a murmur as one of his hands, the one he'd taken the glove off of, lifted to stroke the hair back from her face and she tipped her head at him.

"Yes?" she asked and he smiled a little shyly and a little smugly.

"Yes," he repeated. "I do wake up when people come into my room no matter how quiet they are and I hear really well in the dark too. And since I already answered your question about Marlene I thought I should answer your first two questions too. The answer to both of them is 'yes'." He paused while her eyes went wide.

"'Yes' and 'always'," he amended seriously.


	4. I Can't Stop Loving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a very short bit based on [I Can't Stop Loving You by bechedor79](https://www.deviantart.com/bechedor79/art/I-Can-t-Stop-Loving-You-170981168). All their cloti art is beautiful so I completely recommend checking it out!

There's the rustle of cloth,

  
of leather,

  
of couch.

He retreats

  
but only to lead. She follows

  
because he silently called.

There's 'here, I'm vulnerable'  
and  
'let me close'  
and  
'yes'.

She's trusted  
and kept safe.

  
Guarded  
and let in.

Because ~

  
He finally can...


	5. I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set after ACC

He was running late.

It wasn't exactly a new concept for him. It was even a bit of a familiar joke with Tifa. That wasn't the point though. The point was that he was running late and he wasn't going to get home before it was dark and the children were already in bed.

He'd managed to stay on time enough to see them off to bed for a full week and a half. And now he was going to break that streak.

It bothered him. It bothered him deep down where his guilt lived and as each minute passed it rubbed him a little bit more raw there. He knew it was foolish to feel guilty for something he couldn't control - the ferry breaking down - but he did and no matter how hard he pushed Fenrir the fact remained. He was going to be late getting home.

Finally, he conceded the point and pulled to the side of the long winding road to dig out his cell phone. There was only one number in it that called him regularly and that, just recently, he called regularly. Or fairly regularly. Or at least often enough it was the only one in his 'sent calls' memory. He still didn't like talking on the cell phone.

She picked up on the third ring.

"I'm going to be late." Inwardly he winced at how bluntly it came out but he couldn't think of any other way to say it.

"Oh..." she paused and his heart took a lurch at all the things she didn't say afterward that he thought she should. He deserved it. After a minute she added with a bit more brightness in her voice. "It's okay. I'll save you some dinner for when you get home and I'll make sure there's enough hot water for a shower for you. I'll send Denzel out to pull the garage door down but we'll leave it unlocked for - "

"Tifa," he quietly cut her off and she went silent on the other end. She didn't have to act cheerful. He knew what he'd done to her when he'd left because of the geostigma. He knew forgiving and forgetting were two different things and while one was easy for her the second wasn't for anyone. His emotion rumbled behind his low voice as he told her:

"I'm coming home tonight."

For a very long time it was quiet on her end of the phone and when she answered the emotion behind her voice loosened the bands of iron around his chest and actually made the very edges of his lips turn upward the smallest bit. And all she said was:

"I know."


	6. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a direct result of Cloud's decision to 'make things right'

Cloud Strife was seducing her.

Tifa stood at the kitchen counter with a knife in one hand and a mound of carrots next to the chopping board in front of her and stared absently out the window.

Cloud Strife was seducing her…

It had started out so innocently after the Geostigma incident that she'd missed it's beginning entirely. He'd started to linger over their breakfasts together. Or rather, her preparing breakfast for the still sleeping children and him sitting at the kitchen table watching her with a mug of coffee in his hands. In the past, he would have inhaled the coffee no matter how hot, made sure he knew what her and the children's plans were for the day and then been out the door the second his mug touched the bowl of the sink. Not rushing to leave them but rushing because his delivery days were always full. Now he still sat at the kitchen table with his coffee and watched her make breakfast. He still made sure he knew what she and the children were doing for the day. It was just… now he watched her instead of the ingredients she put into the breakfast. She could feel his eyes on her. His intent attention. The same way she could feel it as he listened to whatever she and the children had planned. An extra attention, as if he was more than listening but actively committing it to memory. That… and he would always wait until she was near the sink to bring his coffee mug over now. She'd tested it several times, lingering away from the sink when she knew it was time for him to go. And he'd waited. Pretending for all the world as if he had no idea what the time was even though she knew he always did. And when she'd move to the sink – because she couldn't bear making him late for long before she caved - he'd push back from the table and stand, walking over with his coffee mug in his hand to set it in the sink. Reaching around her to do it. Even if he incidentally had to have the coffee mug in the other hand to do it. Standing so close to her while he did so that she could feel the brush of his breathing against her cheek or shoulder as he reached past her to calmly set the mug in the sink. So close that his body would brush hers. And then he would turn and be gone with his usual estimate of when he'd be home that night, leaving her puzzled, and blushing and a little too warm while he acted as if he had no idea what he'd just done to her entire day.

And then there were the flowers.

Tifa didn't consider herself a flower girl. Not the way Aerith had been, not even close. But two weeks ago, Cloud had brought her a flower. Just a single flower. It hadn't been one of Aerith's lilies. It had been a small, bright, cheerful little thing that had still smelled of a grassy field somewhere and Cloud had brought it in with Fenrir's saddle bags thrown over his shoulder after coming back from a day and a half absence on deliveries. He'd given it to her in passing, holding it out to her absently while he gave her his usual kiss on her forehead, himself smelling like oil and road and sweat and wild wind, before he'd passed through the bar she'd been doing paperwork at the counter of and gone upstairs where she heard the shower start running. Leaving her sitting there, stunned and confused with the innocent little unsuspecting flower in her hands.

She'd tried to keep it alive but it had died within a few days, fading away and leaving her feeling strangely heartbroken.

Except he'd brought her another, different lost little wildflower, held delicately between his gloved fingers after a trip to Fort Condor later that week. A brush of lips against her forehead, the flower, the wonderful male scent of him and then he'd been gone again and the pipes had made their noise as the shower started.

There was no pattern to it. Just… random wildflowers and Cloud pretending he'd forgotten he had them in his hand when he gave one to her.

Sometimes when she thought about it at night she almost cried for no reason she could imagine. Remembering the first time he'd brought her a flower in a city without light, when he'd been a man she didn't know and yet always had.

He did worse to her abused heart than just flowers and breakfast though.

He picked up the children from school. They usually walked back to the bar. Seventh Heaven wasn't that far from Edge's only school and it gave them a chance to play with their friends. Homework always waited until after dinner anyway. Tifa thought children should be allowed to play. Marlene and Denzel knew what they could and couldn't do and she knew they liked the safe independence of walking home themselves. The first time she'd heard Fenrir outside in the late afternoon she'd assumed Cloud had forgotten something and gone to the bottom of the stairs to look across the bar at the front door in curiosity. Except the door had burst open with more force than Cloud usually used to open it and Marlene had come tearing in, giddy and helplessly desperate to tell Tifa that Cloud had surprised them all by picking them up at the school and how jealous all her friends would be by tomorrow. Denzel had come in with Cloud and it had made Tifa's heart swell to see the hero worship glow so bright in the little boy's eyes as he, forgetting he was too old, had clung to Cloud's hand. Those mako blue eyes had met hers with a soft smile in them and for that single moment, her family had been a real family and entirely whole and happy.

As random as her flowers, Cloud picked up the children from that point on. Quiet surprises that were scattered enough to still make all of their hearts shudder with both longing and love.

He wasn't just seducing her. He was seducing his entire family.

As if the children hadn't already been hopelessly in love with him.

As if she hadn't…

Tifa exhaled and looked down at the carrots. She'd promised the bar patrons pot pie tonight and she needed to start soon if she wanted the crust to be as light and flaky as they seemed to think only she could make it.

Cloud had started smuggling her food.

It made the edges of her lips curve as she tried not to smile.

It had started with one of Shera's 'to die for' chocolate scones. She knew the other woman hoarded them for the rare times Cloud visited on his deliveries. It didn't matter what kind of schedule he was running or how far behind it he was, Shera's scones could stop him in his tracks and glue him to a chair until they were entirely gone. Tifa knew because they'd both giggled over it at the other woman's wedding when Cloud had 'innocently' wandered into her kitchen that was supposed to be off limit to the guests looking for them.

So Tifa hadn't been sure she'd been seeing what she really had when she'd gone into her bedroom late one night with only thoughts of her soft bed in her mind and seen one of those coveted scones sitting on a napkin on her nightstand. Three days later it had been a powder cake from the Gold Saucer. A week later it had been one of the honey rolls from Cosmo Canyon. Last night had revealed a little shredded coconut and lime concoction she'd never had before but that had reminded her of Costa del Sol.

Cloud was always in bed and asleep by the time she found them and he never mentioned them the next morning. The one time she had thanked him, he'd just looked calmly at her and acted as if he didn't know what she was thanking him for. Even if his blue eyes had looked pleased and happy as he'd done it.

She could have excused all of it, tucked it away as Cloud quietly making it a point to be a part of his family, and been entirely happy with that explanation. Except… there was the touching…

…oh… the touching…

Tifa finally set down the knife and gave in and wrapped her arms around herself.

Cloud was starting to touch her.

It wasn't that they hadn't touched before. With people that he cared about Cloud could get very handsy. It was rare to see one of the children near him without his hand on their shoulder or head or around theirs. And, even though he never instigated, he certainly didn't shy away when one of their friends touched him. Cid was forever pounding him on the shoulder in greeting and Yuffie had taken to whirlwind hugs that gave her an excuse to pat him down for new materia. Cid's rough affection always got one of Cloud's shy, quiet smiles and she noticed that he intentionally switched out his usual armlet materia with flashier bits he didn't mind losing whenever he had forewarning about the arrival of the little ninja. Well, all right – that last part might be less to encourage Yuffie's hugs and more as a common sense measure against having something he actually needed stolen from him but still – it wasn't as if he actually dodged the ninja hugs when they came. She'd even caught him dozing in the curve of a sleeping Nanaki's side once or twice when one of the group's parties had gone on for longer than its usual two-day crawl. She had a hoarded picture of one time that had happened and a mischievous Cait Sith had crawled into his crossed arms just so that Tifa could get a picture that still made her heart giggle whenever she looked at it on her nightstand.

It would have shocked strangers to hear that Cloud Strife enjoyed physical contact. Between his eyes and his mannerisms, he managed to hold the rest of the world at further than arm's length. But from his closest friends and particularly his family, Cloud Strife accepted physical touch and, for the children, he actually even instigated it. Sometimes, he had even been known to instigate it with her too. So it wasn't unusual, for instance, for Cloud to kiss her forehead or rest his hand on her shoulder. She'd taught him how to hug. It wasn't even unheard of, if he was tired enough and helpless enough, – he was particularly susceptible, she'd learned, when he was trying to suppress his emotions - for her to be able to lure him into snuggling on the downstairs couch after the children had gone to bed and the bar was closed.

Since the Geostigma though… no, since he'd found her in the church after she'd fought that remnant and Marlene had been taken… yes, since than, the touches had started to change.

Those changing touches of his were what was starting to drive her just a little bit crazy.

And she would swear he knew it.

It was in his impossible blue eyes when his fingers would 'accidentally' slid over her stomach as he reached around her to get something the children had asked for that she could have gotten herself just as easily. It was in the soft hum he made when he'd rub his lips over her shoulder sometimes when he was standing behind her and thinking over something they were discussing over the kitchen sink in the morning. It was in the edges of his lips when he would stand behind her when she was taking a delivery order on the phone for him and he would casually hook his thumbs into the waistband of her pants as he rested his hands on her hips and rested his chin on her shoulder, as impatient as any of the children for her to get back to whatever the family had been doing before the phone had interrupted it. Last week while she'd been mending one of Denzel's shirts in the evening, he'd laid down on the couch next to her while the children played a board game on the floor and he'd rested his head in her lap and gone to sleep. That wasn't new for them. What was new was that before he'd gone to sleep he'd turned his head and placed a soft kiss against the exposed skin of her stomach as casually as if he was kissing her forehead.

Kissing her stomach did an entirely different thing to her nerves than kissing her forehead did.

She'd almost stabbed herself with the needle. She'd certainly had an alarming moment when she'd forgotten there was anyone else even in the room with them before he'd turned his head and shut his eyes with that quietly smug smile and the children's chatter had found its way back to her ears.

Her eyes, staring unseeing out the window, narrowed.

She knew the man was doing it on purpose.

Her fingers began to tap against her arms.

The same way he'd taken to 'forgetting' his shirt in his room so that he had to walk across the hall without it on when he got out of the shower, a towel thrown over his shoulder and his hair wet and clean smelling and his bare feet making him ridiculously attractive for some unknown reason. Even worse, he'd stop to talk to her if he caught her nearby. And he _always_ seemed to come out of the bathroom just as she was either coming up the stairs or coming out of her bedroom door. It was like the man _waited_ or something. He'd _talk_ to her. Cloud Strife, king of grunts and silence, would stop to talk to her about the most random and unimportant things, standing there with drops of water running down his long throat and amazing, bare chest, smelling impossibly wonderful and clean and male and wild wind, his low voice doing absolutely nothing to distract her from wondering how his usually warm skin would feel with the extra layer of cool water over it.

In the kitchen, reliving it now, Tifa grit her teeth.

That…that… _man_!

She still had no idea what she'd agreed to yesterday when he'd done that to her, just that afterward she'd been sure, as he turned to head to his room and given her a breathtaking view of his back and made her think how nice it would be to be able to press into it… she'd sworn she'd seen the glint of a mischievous smugness in those blue eyes.

That man! That Cloud Strife!

He was doing it on purpose.

Tifa folded her arms across her chest now and continued to glare out the window.

When he took her out on Fenrir now, and it suddenly seemed like there was always an excuse for him to need to, he always tugged her arm around his waist until she was curled around his back before he'd kick off and go racing the wind down the road. He still carried her up to her bed now when she fell asleep on the couch on nights when he was late coming home but now he stayed instead of going back to his own room. It didn't matter that he tucked her under the blankets and slept on top. He knew he was warm and she always kicked off the blankets and snuggled up against him in favor of that warmth whenever she fell asleep next to him. And even though he usually woke up first thanks to his years in the army, she knew the way they ended up tangled together after a night of sleeping that way was impossibly intimate and something they only let themselves get away with because their excuse was that they'd been asleep when they'd settled that way.

That man was taking advantage of her.

Tifa didn't know whether to blush or scowl or give in to the silly girly giggles she felt trying to get out past her chest. Instead she bent her head and rubbed her palm over her lips to hide the smile.

Cloud Strife was taking advantage of her.

Her eyes focused on the carrots in front of her and she gave them a thoughtful look. She had several hours still before the bar opened. Cloud would be back soon, bringing her back the sacks of potatoes she'd asked for. She made a snap decision and strode out of the kitchen to head up the stairs.

She'd put her hair up in one of those loose ponytails that Cloud always liked to take down and change into that shirt that always 'accidentally' slipped off of her shoulder.

 _Then_ she'd go downstairs and make sure she was chopping carrots when Cloud got home.

Two could play at this game.


	7. Icy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100 word drabble about the Thens and Nows of life

_Icy air. Red cheeks, crisped exhales. Laughter like icicles except it makes him warm in the pit of his belly like hot apple cider. He’s hiding in a stand of bare trees, longing, content. Tifa is learning to skate with her mother._

_He’s in love._

_Bitter cold air. Slush puddles. Gray snow. A frozen, flooded parking lot. Laughter like shivers. Tifa is teaching her family to skate. He already knows how but he prefers to watch as Denzel trips and skids along with pride and Marelene clings to the only mother she’s ever known. They’re smiling._  
  
He's still in love.


	8. Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for everyone that wanted the sequel and Cloud's POV

Tifa Lockhart was a fighter.

Cloud had always, on some bone deep level, recognized that in her. Even as a child there had been very little she couldn't do when she put her mind to it. Sometimes it had scared him as a child, that she could be so sure of something, so determined. Sometimes… it still scared him for the same reason. Tifa Lockhart was a clan lord's daughter even if her ancestor's might have never worn a crown or even owned more than a single roomed house and she'd break herself in half before she'd give up and surrender when she thought it was something important enough.

He couldn't think of how many times he'd found his strength in her, how many times he would have buckled under or shattered if it hadn't been for her steady and true and constant by his side, like a single dark star in a bottomless sky.

His star, with her eyes of fire and shadow, all moonlight and lovers whispers in the dark…

He blinked and looked down at the slip of paper in front of him, frowning. This would be three times he'd read it and he still had no idea what it said. He could understand the words, they just seemed less important to his mind than the fact that the shorts she was wearing were –

The soft sound grumbled in the back of his throat and he stared hard at the paper as she hummed and went about her monthly deep cleaning of the bar. Without his permission, his brain alerted his eyes and they rose again just as she bent over to pick up the rag she'd dropped. The soft shorts, well worn and tattered at their edges, clung to the curves she casually displayed, and his palms envied them with hot flushes that told him being curled around a boring piece of paper wasn't where they wanted to be. With a pleased sound, she straightened up and pushed her loose ponytail back across her shoulder, before tossing the rag over that same shoulder and wandering back around behind the bar again.

Cloud looked down at the delivery slip in his hands and tried to make it make sense.

Tifa Lockhart, independent, warm, laughing, loving, ass kicking Tifa Lockhart was teasing him.

And worse yet, he suspected she knew it.

The thought had the edges of his lips curving upward against his will as heat and tension coiled in his stomach and in his boots, he curled his toes briefly. He set the piece of paper to the side in the pile of the other ones he hadn't been able to read either and pulled over his logbook, picking up a pencil to tally the mileage he'd racked up in the past week. A chair scraped behind the bar and biting back a groan, Cloud lifted his eyes to see what she was doing now.

Apparently, it was time to take all the bottles down off the back shelf and wipe everything clean.

Which would involve both a lot of stretching upward and exposing the soft looking skin of her back and bending down to set things on the lower counter, giving him a view of just how soft and well fit to her those shorts she was wearing were. Meanwhile, the entire time, her long pale legs just seemed to go on forever… He made it through five bottles before the pencil snapped in his hand and he had to lean down and pick up the pieces from under the table.

He could have sworn, with his enhanced hearing, that he heard a snicker from behind the counter.

His eyes narrowed and he shifted in his chair as he straightened back up and glared at the logbook.

Technically, this wasn't new for them. He'd already helped her move all the tables and picked up all the chairs and stools for her earlier, the same way he always did if he happened to be home when the cleaning bug hit her. He was at the single remaining table going over his papers, the same way they always kept each other silent company when they both happened to be home, without the need for talk or direct interaction. It was enough to know the other one was there. Technically, Tifa always cleaned in old clothes and it was perfectly logical to do so.

She paused and raised a foot to rub her toes absently against the back of one bare calf and he had to swallow against his dry mouth. It was just a bare foot. He'd seen her rub the back of her calf with her opposite shoe often enough before. Why did it look like such a vulnerable move now? Why did it make him feel so protective – and aggressive? It wasn't helping that she had her arms stretched above her to hold the shelf for a small extra measure of balance.

He narrowed his eyes – and then she lifted down another bottle and both her feet were back on the chair but she was leaning over again.

With a low sound swallowed in his throat, Cloud gave in and stood up.

She was doing it on purpose. The same way she had worn that shirt that always seemed to find an excuse to slip off of one creamy shoulder or another. The same way she'd taken to putting her hair up in one of those loose pony tails that were always threatening to come down in a cascade of dark silk and yet never did, teasing him until he simply had to reach out and make it happen himself. The same way she'd taken to turning to face him with a question whenever he reached around her in the morning to put his empty mug in the kitchen sink and wrecked him for the entire day with the whispered brush of her body against his, eyes nothing but innocent as his mind blanked and he simply grunted in response to whatever words she was using that he suddenly couldn't hear anyway.

She was pure evil. There really wasn't any question about it. And it shouldn't make him have to stifle his smile the way it did as he walked over to her now.

Tifa Lockhart, fighter that she was, fought really, really dirty when she wanted to.

Of course, she wasn't the only fighter in the family. He was learning that from her too.

He'd taken off his gloves to do his paperwork earlier and he was glad about it now as he reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her exposed thigh. She started under his touch even though she'd seen him from the corners of her eyes when he'd come back around behind the bar and it made him smirk, just a little. Until she turned to him with that smile of hers that always stopped his heart and leaned down to hand him a bottle. The neckline of her shirt offered a glimpse she knew he couldn't take when her eyes were on him, sparking brighter than any of the red wines in her stock.

He felt the unexpected laugh bubble up in his chest and narrowed his eyes at her against it. She simply smiled that smile of hers as he took the bottle and reached up to get the next one down. Cloud was so busy staring at her exposed stomach so close to his mouth that she had to bump him lightly on the top of his head with the next bottle before he remembered to put the first one down on the counter and absently reached up for the next one. His hand stayed on her thigh and he spread his fingers to touch more of that pale, perfect skin. Her hand found the top of his head for balance when he did and it made him stifle another smile. Until her fingers absently combed through his hair and he felt the tantalizingly light scrap of her nails as she smoothed the impossible spikes back into place. Then he had to shut his eyes and inhale long and slow through his mouth.

Another bottle gently nudged him on top of his head and he was sure he heard a humming, muffled laugh this time.

It was a distinctly satisfied, feminine sound and one he'd never heard the woman above him make before.

He wondered what kind of sound she'd make if he gave in and ran his tongue over the bare skin in front of him. The thought made him smile as he reached up without lifting his head to take the bottle and set it aside.

That wasn't the way this worked though. Not yet.

Right now, they were flirting.

Not that anyone else would recognize it. Cloud realized that. There were no flirtatious looks or witty banter. No giggling, no clever innuendo. And he was glad. He would have felt like an idiot doing any of those. He wasn't a teen, in a way he never had been, and he'd entirely missed the way young men and women danced around each other, missed out on the basic building blocks of social interaction in so many ways. He'd been so shy during his youth he'd already been headed toward a stunted social life anyway. His years under Hojo's... 'care' certainly hadn't helped any either. There were huge gaps in the way he dealt with people. He wouldn't have had the slightest clue about how to properly woo the woman in front of him without looking like an idiot and being so uncomfortable he would have messed things up.

Luckily, she'd given him the secret to her heart years ago. The key to the lock.

Words weren't the only way to show someone how you felt.

The bottles were down and the shelf was clean, his hand on her leg 'steadying' her the same way her hand dropping to stroke through his hair from time to time 'steadied' her. He could smell cleaning fluid and faint traces of dust and flecks of liquor on her. He could smell the laundry soap and the fabric of her clothes. He could smell the soap she used, the lotion she used, her shampoo. And under all of that he could smell the warm, soft scent that was distinctly and only Tifa Lockhart.

He hadn't realized how close his nose had gotten to the dip of her waist until her fingers lightly bopped him on the top of his head and he opened his eyes to see nothing but pale skin. He didn't pull back right away and her body went very still in the shadow of his. She said his name and it came out a little bit broken, a little bit whispered and that sound made him smile and gave him the strength to pull back a little and reach down to hand her back up the first bottle.

When he had been little, all he'd ever really wanted was to be able to play with Tifa Lockhart.

He'd just never imagined the games would be this enjoyable.

He had to hold the bottle steady for her for almost a full minute before she managed to get her hand around it strongly enough that he wasn't worried she'd drop it, and he raised his face to her before he let it go, blue eyes feeling heavy and lazy as they found hers.

She almost dropped the bottle but he was still holding it and he felt the way the edges of his lips tugged upward again.

Tifa Lockhart could kick the ass of any man in the city. She handled two rambunctious kids that were too smart for anyone's good as if she'd done it forever. She could single handedly make Cid rub out his cigarette, Barret hang his head or Vincent smile with nothing but a look. She'd been the sweetheart of their village and probably every man's dream that had had the misfortune to look at her since. And she only – ever – went weak and vulnerable like this for him.

She wet her lips and he couldn't look away from the nervous little move.

"I think," she made a noise to try to bring some strength back into her voice. "I think I'll let the shelves dry before I put the bottles back up."

His eyes narrowed in thought and neither one of them moved.

That meant she'd be doing the stretching and bending routine again later tonight. The bar was always closed when she did her deep cleaning. He'd have her all to himself once the children went to bed. He nodded in thoughtful agreement.

"I've still got paperwork," he offered to keep her company while she did. The edges of her lips twitched now and he wondered how long she'd known he wasn't getting any work done. She made a humming sound and nodded a little. Her lips lost their battle and quirked upward.

"You can put the bottle down then."

He narrowed his eyes at her and could all but hear the laughter that shone in the sparks and dark depths of hers as he remembered he was still holding the bottle and set it down on the counter. Gruff, he reached up and she reached down for him at the same time, resting her hands on his shoulders. For a moment the teasing fell away and something warmer and deeper and familiar swirled between them. He watched her eyes soften and suddenly couldn't bring himself to play. His hands were firm and tender with her as he lifted her down from her chair and into his arms. She came with a soft sound and her arms stayed around his shoulders and wound around his neck as her body settled against the entire length of his. He enclosed her against himself and held her tightly. He didn't know any other way to hold her. Nestled against him, she was his soft, warm, dark star and the contentment pooled deep around both of them as he closed his eyes and relaxed. She burrowed in close, safe and knowing it, in his arms and that made him smile softly too.

This is why they could play with each other and tease, because of this safety and completion together.

He never would have been able risk making himself vulnerable to her possible rejection if it weren't for this. He knew it, and thanked the heavens for what had always been and yet what had grown between them.

Because… Tifa Lockhart loved him. And it was quite possible a part of him had always known it, even if it hadn't always been as obvious to him as the fact that he loved her in return had been.

He wouldn't rush this. Not after all this time. They deserved to be able to play. _She_ deserved to have someone play with her and make her laugh and feel young and carefree. But he wasn't going to hesitate, or let her hesitate, anymore either. If he'd learned anything from the geostigma, it was that everything was temporary – but some things would stand firm forever.

Her love fell irrevocably into the second category.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly against his throat and he made a low sound with a wry smile. Standing the way they were she couldn't miss what she did to his body and he reached up to tug her pony tail loose so that her hair fell down her back and he could stroke it. A brief pause in their game with its inevitable end they both knew was waiting.

"I'm all right," he told her with quiet humor. She was still stumbling over this type of 'game' between them, and her sweet hesitation and concern for him just made it sweeter for him. Not that he had any more experience in flirting than she did, probably a great deal less, but somehow each time she went weak and blushing and helpless for him, it just built his confidence and made him all that more determined to lure her past her own shyness. Tifa Lockhart, as sought after as her Corel wines, only melted for him. Just him. Only him.

Always him.

That obvious fact was enough to break through even his sometimes stifling self-doubt. The strongest woman he'd ever known and she turned to him for her strength and shelter. He couldn't help but rise to that need, each and every time she reached for him and that was one of the reasons he'd left when the geostima had started eating away at him, draining away his strength and his concentration. Because failing to be that for her, failing to shelter and protect her –

Seeing his failure reflected in her or the children's eyes… he would have died a thousand times alone in an empty church rather than see his failure in their eyes.

It was one of the reasons he'd stayed away and… when he'd found himself near her again, why he'd been unable to do anything but go when she sent him after the children. Better to die and not see her disappointment than live and know it was hiding in her eyes.

Somehow, she'd known that fighting would be like an elixir to him, that the more he did it, the more he'd need to fight what fate and the planet had done to him. Her spark to relight the all but dead fire in his own chest.

"Cloud…?" She whispered his name and brought him back to the present and he smiled and bent his head, rubbing his lips over her exposed shoulder with a hum to show he was still there, still with her. And then his blue eyes blinked in confusion and he raised his head. Her eyes were watching him, too sweetly innocent, and he pulled his lower lip into his mouth to taste –

"Cinnamon?" It was one of the only spices he recognized simply because he liked it so much when she put it on his toast. Her eyes were dancing, red opal sparks in liquid shadows and she shrugged that shoulder lightly, her hands curled on his shoulders.

"I might have spilled some this morning," she murmured. Sounding as if she was on the edge of a giggle. And Tifa Lockhart never giggled. He tried to fight down the way his lips curved and couldn't quite manage it. He tasted his upper lip with his tongue.

The woman fought dirty.

"On your shoulder?" he asked and got another shrug that threatened to slip the shirt entirely off her shoulder and, to his frustration, didn't.

"Among other places," she told him cheerfully. "I was very messy."

His eyes had just a second to go wide with the thought and then she was pulling away from him with a laugh and heading for the kitchen and hiding her coloring cheeks from him.

"The kids will be home soon from Myrna's. I should start dinner," she chirped and left him standing there with his fingers curling at his sides. It took almost a full minute for him to realize he'd started to grin and then he followed her into the kitchen.

Tifa Lockhart was a dirty fighter.

But she wasn't the only one that could be that way.


	9. Love Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he pays more attention than she realizes. He always has

It was one of those silly old love songs that had been popular when she'd been just a child. Full of soppy sentiment and sweet words. She'd memorized it, of course. What little girl, dreaming of heroes and a love that didn't pay attention to time, wouldn't have? She couldn't remember the number of times she'd fiddled away on her piano until she'd finally worked out the piece… how many times after that she'd played it in the evening, fingers moving over the keys until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. It was a good thing her father had been gone so many evenings or she probably would have driven him mad with the repetition of those notes, that song. Thinking back on it now, it made her feel just a little bit silly and relieved that no one had been subjected to hearing how often she'd played that single song…

But still, when it came on the radio while she was working a new layer of polish into the counter top of her bar, it made her pause and sigh in the empty room. Remembering how she'd loved the song, remembering how she'd loved the way the song had made her little girl heart feel…

And, since she was alone, with no one to tease her for being silly and soppy and sentimental, she let herself sing softly along with it, smiling to herself as she smoothed circles over the reflective surface in front of her. The music filled the bar and filled her memory and wove a soft place around her heart.

Oh… she'd been so young and so naïve…

She didn't regret not being that little girl anymore but sometimes… sometimes she missed her…

The last note died away with a bittersweet sigh and she sighed too and stopped her work, just for a minute, to lean forward onto the bar and enjoy the lingering, already fading emotion.

And then Cloud stirred from where he'd been leaning against the door and her eyes started up, wondering how long he'd been there.

He walked over and shut off the radio and she watched him, torn between embarrassment that he might have seen her going young and silly and hoping, because his face was so relaxed and calm, that he hadn't seen it at all. Until he very gently drew her around and into his arms. Lowering his head just enough to rest his cheek against her temple he began to slowly move them in a lazy pattern across the floor behind the bar. And, soft and without missing a single note, his low, throaty hum began to repeat the song.


	10. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is learning to open up

"Cloud?"

Her voice was soft from the doorway and he turned to look at her. The rain plastered his hair to his face and caught in his lashes. It wasn't a gentle rain either and so the wind pushed and tugged at the cloth and leather, at him. The icy drops bit his exposed skin. It felt…

"Mm," he made a noise to show her he was aware. In the moment and paying attention to her and not lost somewhere else inside his head. But he didn't move out of the storm. Her lips shifted upward in amusement but her eyes held worry and confusion.

He was used to that look. It was one of _his_ looks. The looks that only he ever got.

The thought made him smile, just the slightest curve of his lips.

He liked the fact that he actually had 'looks' that were just for him. Even if most of them were a mix of amusement and concern. It was the affection, that warm, rich, complete love that was always mixed in with the looks she gave him that made him so proud to be the sole owner of a score of Tifa Lockhart's 'looks'. Rain trickled down the back of his collar and he shivered. He didn't move to join her in the doorway though.

"What are you doing outside?" she finally asked and that made his lips twitch too. Instead of scolding him, she was asking why he was doing what he was doing. He couldn't explain what it meant to him that she asked instead of assumed, that she cared about the why as much as the what when he did things. He finally let her presence lure him closer and took the two steps that brought him to just where the edge of the roof kept the rain from falling. He didn't want to lose that rain and the feel of the storm. Not yet.

"It's raining," he told her, lifting his face to squint at her through the falling water where she stood on the raised stoop of the entry, white toes of her sneakers peeking over the lip. It reminded him of her as a little girl. Her lips moved, pressing together. Exasperation and laughter. Another look that was his… but that he sometimes had to share with the children.

"Yes," she agreed, amusement in her voice. "It is. And you're standing out in it getting cold and wet."

It made him smile, just a little bit wider, and the wind took that moment to buffet at him and then dashed past to puff at the hair around her neck and face. She retreated just the littlest bit from the cold in its touch. But she didn't abandon him, even if it was his own fault he was standing out in the storm. She did laugh though.

"Cloud – " the sound was exasperated but not impatient or annoyed. She crossed her arms at him but it wasn't her 'you're in trouble, mister' gesture. It told him that she wanted to hug him but he wasn't close enough or she didn't think the timing was right so she folded her arms in on herself instead. She didn't know that he knew her secret about that gesture. But he'd realized it at the newborn pool in the church last month when he'd been surrounded by children and life and laughter and hope.

He'd realized a lot that day.

"Sometimes… we could hear the rain." He hadn't used his voice all day, customers content with his grunts of acknowledgment and now it came out a bit rusty. The rain hit his tongue when he spoke and the cold felt good against the heat. "Not the nice, gentle showers. It was only when it stormed, when it was violent enough to reach through the pipes and the stone. Sometimes, when they'd put me in the mako tube to repair what they'd done, I would dream and I could hear the rain. But I could never feel it." His voice was soft and thoughtful as he added: "I learned to hate not being able to feel the rain."

She made a noise, a little lost sound, and he realized what he'd been talking about. Or rather, she realized what he had been talking about. He blinked at her through the rain as another gust pushed at him, trying to push him inside the house. And he'd let it. Just… just not yet.

He wanted to feel the rain.

"Is that what woke you up this morning?" she asked softly and he liked the way her voice sounded when it was the way it was now. Soft enough for him to sink into. That was one of the voices she only used on him and the children too. He made a low sound.

"This morning it was screaming. When it started to rain on my way back here, I remembered how much I had liked hearing the rain."

Now that they were sleeping together, even if it was only sleeping and not _sleeping_ the way he wanted to, she got to suffer through his nightmares too. He'd gotten good at not making noise when he had them and waking himself up before they got too bad… but he still had them. She somehow always knew when he was having them, even when he didn't move. Not as much now though. Since she'd let him move into her bed, he didn't have them nearly as often at all and they didn't cling to him all day long the way they'd used to. Her arms around him were stronger than the nightmares.

She'd always been stronger than his nightmares.

She made a soft sound then, one of the sounds she only made for him, and suddenly she wasn't in the doorway anymore. Because she was wrapping her arms around his ribs instead and standing in the storm with him. The smile came again and he lifted his own arms and wrapped them around her, bowing his body forward so that he could keep her safe and warm in the shelter of his. She burrowed in closer, fingers fisting on the fabric of his shirt against his back, nose finding the warmth of his throat. That made him smile too and he shut his eyes while the rain battered them.

She was going to get wet. But it was okay. She was from Nibelheim too and she could handle a little cold. It wasn't as if he was going to keep her out here for long.

The point was that she was here now. With him.

Across the street, weathered eyes peered through the curtains to squint out the window again. Behind her, her husband of fifty years made a querulous sound.

"What are you doing over there, Mabel?"

She gave the window a scowl and sniffed for effect even though Hubert's hearing had been going for years and the noise would be lost on him.

"It's those crazy kids across the street again," she told her husband. "Don't even have the sense to come in out of the rain."


	11. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone has done one of these at some point

"Tifa…" his low voice held a hidden, yet, to her, distinctive rasp. For someone that didn't talk much, he always managed to put an awful lot of meaning into her name each time he said it. And right now his tone said he'd do anything to please her… and that he wasn't at all sure about whether he could at this particular moment.

"It's okay," she reassured him, moving her hand over his, one of their private ways of communicating that she was giving him permission, in fact, asking him 'please do' and, despite himself, he made a quiet sound in his throat in automatic response. Cloud might not talk much but he was in no way silent, if you knew what to listen for. It made her smile and she shut her eyes briefly as, under hers, his long fingers started to move with more assurance, even if there was still a guarded hesitation. It made her smile softly.

In front of her, she felt his concentration sharpen. He was so… sweetly serious about this it almost made her want to laugh. And to cry. Because it was obvious this was his first time and as much as it made her – so stupidly proud it was with her, another part of her was reminded of how much time, how much of his life, he'd lost to mako tubes and torture. And then to hunting down a planet destroying madman. And, just recently, burdened first heart and then even physically by geostigma and guilt...

"Tifa?"

He could pick up on her moods even faster than she could and she opened her eyes and gave him a smile. Which quickly transmuted to a grin as his hand under hers shifted and his fingers, long, clever – dangerous – fingers, took up a different rhythm. She hummed her approval and had to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss him.

"Even better," she told him and his electric eyes, blue on blue, lifted under his shaggy bangs to find hers, just a little shy. It made her heart catch, the way that look he only ever gave her always did, and then his eyes went back to concentrating on the way he was moving his fingers. She inhaled and watched his lips flicker at their edges at the sound.

"You're sure I should be doing this?" he asked but his voice had lost the hint of trepidation and he sounded vaguely… fascinated.

"Oh, very sure," she agreed and his eyes lifted to hers again. His fingers shifted suddenly, strong and sure of themselves and wound her own through them, drawing her down into the moist dampness and she had to blink and lock her jaw against the sudden blush again. She was supposed to be teaching him. She did this herself all the time… as if reading her thoughts, his low voice dropped a note.

"I like it when you do this better."

"Cloud…" she chided and his thumb slid over her knuckle, leaving damp and liquid behind. Eyes on hers, he lifted her fingers, now as coated as his and very deliberately sucked the moisture off of her index.

"I like it when you do this better," he calmly repeated. "I like to watch."

The room had already been hot but suddenly it was so much hotter and she felt herself go red all the way down her throat. The brush of his tongue on her skin had her stomach going weightless and her joints went weak.

"Cloud…" her voice came out much more breathless than she was comfortable giving away and she saw his smirk in response. It gave him temptation's own eyes.

"Besides," he reasoned in that impossibly attractive, impossibly reasonable voice. "Shouldn't you be teaching Marlene how to do this?"

She had to swallow as his lower teeth absently scrapped her knuckle.

"Boys-" she made a little noise and pulled in a breath. With extreme effort she pulled her brows down at him and sent him a glare, more because he knew what he was doing to her than at his suggestion. "I already taught Marlene. She can take care of herself. But boys should know how to do this kind of thing too."

"Then you should definitely teach Denzel," his calm eyes were watching her but she caught the wicked laughter trying to hide in them. She tried and lost the fight with her own laughter as she reached out and gave his shoulder a push with her free hand that didn't even rock him back on his heels.

"I'm already teaching Denzel. But right now I'm teaching you, Cloud Strife. You can't live off of grilled cheese sandwiches for the rest of your life when I'm gone for a couple of days. Now stop stalling. You're supposed to be learning how to cook and right now the mix needs more flour."


	12. Something Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the heart wants what it wants

"Tifa?"

She made a noise to show she'd heard but didn't try to back out from under the sink where she was battling with a drainpipe. Like so many other mild nuisances, Tifa had kept meaning to mention this one to Cloud… and forgetting it in all the other more important things that came up each time he was home. Finally, this morning, watching the water drain after she'd washed her face… and drain… and drain… and drain… she'd gotten sick of remembering and forgetting and decided to just take care of the darn thing herself.

She'd fought Jenova spawn for pity's sake. How hard could taking a drain off and unclogging it be?

"Can I play with Cloud's jewelry?"

Marlene's voice was bright and cheerful. The little girl, like so many children with busy adults in their life, was very good at entertaining herself. But, like so many children with busy adults in their life, who also happened to know they were loved enough to be confident and on the fearless side, she had a knack for being everywhere and finding everything.

"Sweetie, you know you're not supposed to be in – wait." Tifa set down the crescent wrench and backed carefully out of the small space under the cabinet. "What?"

Marlene made a face and promptly dropped down on her knees to crawl over to where her guardian was crouched. Squinching her nose, as if that was going to help her concentrate or divine some ethereal truth, she looked into the cabinet where the flashlight was spotlighting the pipe in question.

"Cloud's jewelry. Do you think he'd mind if I played with it? Denzel and I are going monster hunting in the basement and I need an armlet for protection."

It made Tifa smile and she brushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She'd been wrestling with the stubborn pipe, trying to find the chancy balance between using enough strength to twist the stubborn seal off without using too much strength and twisting the entire pipe off.

Sometimes, she wondered how Cloud managed it all the time.

"The armlets are in the bottom drawer in my bedroom. You know the wooden box. You and Denzel can both take one if you make sure to put it back."

Marlene pulled out of the cabinet and looked at her. One of those affectionate, 'you just don't get it but I love you anyway' looks that was too adult for such a young face and never ceased to make Tifa have to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from grinning.

"I don't need a real armlet. It's just the basement," she explained to the other woman. "There aren't _really_ going to be any monsters."

Tifa tried to bring her eyebrows down in 'seriousness'. As if she'd really let her children go off and hunt real monsters but Marlene was so sincere in apparently thinking she would…

"I just need some pretend armlets. Cloud's got pretend armlets and I want to use those. They're prettier."

'Pretend armlets'? Tifa ran through it in her head, wondering what Marlene was really talking about. Cloud didn't have much in the way of knickknacks – and even less in the way of jewelry. As far as she knew he had the wolf stud… and maybe the original ball stud for his ear… though she doubted the latter. If it wasn't on Cloud – or a weapon or a bike – he tended to lose it and not even notice. Other than that the only jewelry she could think of might be the wolf on his shoulder plate or the rings he'd given each of his family back before the geostigma incident. Marlene had given hers to Barret but Denzel and Tifa still wore theirs.

"I don't think Cloud has any… pretend armlets, sweetie," she told the little girl and Marlene nodded vigorously.

"Yes, he does. I saw him with them once. Back before… before he left," the little girl whispered the last bit as if afraid someone would overhear or, more likely, as if speaking the words out loud might call the situation in again. Their family was healing but it was still a fresh enough wound that they were all a little shaky around it. Her voice returned to a normal level as she chirped. "They're really pretty and they jingle when they move. I want to jingle."

Tifa finally focused entirely on the little girl in front of her and sat down, crossing her legs in front of her. Cloud had given her all their unused armlets. So that left…

"Bracelets? Do you mean Cloud has bracelets?"

"Mm hm," Marlene's nod was sure and her smile was bright. "Pretty ones. Do you think he'd mind if I borrowed them to play?"

Tifa felt her heart flicker then. She only knew of one place Cloud, short of buying them for himself, would have gotten bracelets.

There was only one woman she knew that had ever worn anything as frivolous and feminine as bracelets. Bracelets that fit better around wrists used to flowers and prayer than worrying about whether they would get tangled up on creatures tusks in battle or jingle and give them away while they were trying to sneak through Shinra.

"I… don't think we should without asking him first, Marley."

Picking up on the change in Tifa's tone, Marlene ducked her head to meet her eyes.

"Is it 'cause they're 'special' bracelets?" she asked and neither of the women even pretended 'special' had anything to do with magic or materia slots. Cloud's 'magic' was the sentimental bits he kept close to his heart and guarded with privacy and silence. Tifa nodded thoughtfully and Marlene, brows down, nodded back. After a moment of silence, Marlene reached out and caught at Tifa's wrist, a move she'd learned from her. So was the bright smile determined to push away any lingering darkness.

"Come on, Tifa. You can come down into the basement with us. I'll be the monster and you and Denzel can hunt me."

It pulled the laugh in a burst from her guardian and with only a single glance at the stubborn pipe, Tifa consigned it for a later time that day and let her charge pull her out the door and down the stairs. The children were her balm as much as she was their security. No matter what… she never doubted their love for her or her standing in their hearts.

Even if they did both end up ganging up on her as 'monsters' and wrestling her to the ground while demanding donuts for her freedom.

Tifa was in the process of serving her customers leftover fresh baked donuts with their drinks when Cloud came home that night and in the rush and rumble of the children she forgot about the bracelets for a little while. Or rather… didn't forget so much as push them to the side…

Tifa, over the course of her life, had gotten very good at not thinking about things she didn't want to. It was part of how she defended herself and her heart. It didn't mean they weren't there, eating away at the back of her mind… it just meant she refused to let them come to the front.

Her habit had almost cost Cloud his sanity once…

It had cost her during the geostigma too. She was trying to be better, do better, since than. Trying… trying to confront things that bothered her instead of pretending they didn't and trying to ignore them. It wasn't easy. She didn't like confronting emotional things. It… it hurt. She shied away from intentionally hurting herself, even if burying things usually only meant it hurt more in the end. So she washed the dishes after she closed down the bar and she frowned into the soapsuds and she tried to work up the nerve to ask.

About something as silly… as important… as bracelets.

By the time she drained the sink and shut off the downstairs lights, she was determined. She'd ask, light and trivial and no matter what the answer… at least she'd know. By the time she passed the children's door and checked in on them, she'd decided she'd just hint at it and let it go if he didn't pick up on it. By the time she got to her bedroom, she was sure she'd put it off until breakfast tomorrow and by the time she reached her bathroom, to find Cloud on his back, half buried under the cabinet, she decided it wasn't really that important after all.

"I was fixing that," she told him gently, leaning her shoulder on the door frame and he grunted from under the sink. A year ago that would have been the end of that, but his sense of humor was healing the same way the rest of him was and his voice, dry, came from the depths of the cabinet.

"I'm fixing it faster."

It brought her lips up in the smile that only he could pull out of her and she folded her arms across her chest at the warmth that rose there. Cloud liked taking care of them. He liked taking care of _her_.

"I would have fixed it already but there were monsters in the basement."

Another grunt but this one held laughter.

"Were the monsters about so high and the reason we had donuts for dessert?" he asked and the quiet laughter was in the edges of his voice too. His hand gestured vaguely for the 'so high' and she laughed. Loving this… this new _comfort_ they found with each other. They really were becoming a real family.

"They might have been," she nodded and then her smile faded a little. Catching at the warmth and comfort in the room, she borrowed courage and, before she could rethink it, told him:

"Marlene wanted to borrow the bracelets you have in your room. She said they were prettier than the armlets we have and that they jingled."

He went suddenly still under the sink and she forgot to breathe. He was trying to get her to be more honest about the way she felt, being his usual quietly coaxing self and she was trying. She knew it was important for both of them. That he relied on her words to show him the way as much as she should say them to let him know what she was thinking. But… it was moments like these that made her think it was better to hide what was going on inside herself from him. How important were the bracelets really? He was with her now.

Slow, almost cautiously, he pushed himself out from under the cabinet and sat up to look at her. She saw that 'little boy' look in his eyes. The one he got when he'd been caught at something and didn't expect it to go well. Even Denzel couldn't do that with his eyes the way Cloud did. His lips pressed together as he looked at her and then he asked quietly:

"Did you see them?"

"Mm" she shook her head, mouth tightly shut as well and he slowly nodded, looking down. Then she watched his eyebrows come down and he pushed himself to his feet in one smooth, dark motion. His jaw was set in determination and somehow, it made her stomach sink.

She shouldn't have said anything…

"You should see them," his hand caught hers as he strode past and she found herself pulled in his wake, suddenly confused and dreading.

"I don't have to," she protested, as they crossed the hallway between their rooms and he just kept going. "Cloud…"

He shook his head and pulled her over to his messy desk.

"I promised no more secrets," he told her. As if it was something she was expecting him to hold to. When she hadn't even known he'd promised it. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and when he did, he let go of her hand. She found herself suddenly feeling adrift and out of place. Metal chimed against metal as he dug it out of the bottom of the drawer where it was hidden under papers and log books and accounting files. Cloud wasn't the most organized but he lived so sparsely it was hard to tell.

She cupped her elbow with her other hand and waited. Telling herself it didn't matter. Because, in a way, it really didn't. It wouldn't change anything between them. He made a low noise and turned to her, glints of gold in his hand. She was confused to see pink whispering over his cheeks though and he held the hand out for her, eyes deep blue and still waiting to get chided. Without thought, she took the metal from him and looked down at the round circles. For a long minute, they didn't make sense.

In the silence, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet.

She lifted her face to him.

"These aren't Aerith's," she stated weakly.

"Hm?"

Tifa held the slim gold bands in her hands and looked down at them. For some reason, her vision blurred and she felt her chest go tight.

"These are mine," she whispered and felt him shift guiltily in front of her.

"Yeah."

Blinking, she managed a smile and looked up at him. He returned the gaze, peeking out at her from behind the shelter of his shaggy bangs. She sniffed and then laughed.

"I thought I lost them years ago. At Don Corneo's. I thought…"

He was looking very intently at her feet now and as she watched he scratched at the back of his neck again.

"Cloud…?" she began softly and he made a noise in his throat.

"Cloud," she stated a little sterner, starting to feel a smile and trying to fight it. He heard it anyway in her voice and his blue eyes slipped up sideways to look at her. Whatever he saw had the edges of his lips starting to curl upward as well.

"You stole my bracelets?"

His shoulders shrugged but the crooked smile didn't leave the edges of his lips.

"You left them with the dress," he told her. "I just – pocketed them. And forgot to give them back later on."

Laughing, she slipped them onto her wrist and listened to the thin bands jingle against each other.

"They're just painted tin. I bought them for nothing when I bought the dress." Walking over she rested that hand against his chest and wiggled her wrist so that the metal chimed cheerfully again. "You didn't have to save them."

He relaxed at her teasing and at her touch and very gently his arms went around her, fingers locking together against her back. His eyes were softer as they moved over her face.

"I wanted something," his voice was softer too. "And," his shoulder moved. "They were yours."

It melted her and she stepped closer so that she could wrap her arms around his ribs and settle in against his chest. They were still getting used to casual touching. But, like communicating, they were getting better at it. His arms wrapped more completely around her and he lowered his head to rest his cheek against hers. For a long time, they stood that way and it was everything and it was enough. Then, the hint of teasing laughter in her voice, without moving, Tifa whispered:

"Did you steal anything else of mine?"

The choked sound Cloud made in his throat would have been answer enough even if the color spreading across his cheeks hadn't given him away.


	13. That Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> follow up to 'Seduction' and 'Fighter'

The man was cheating.

Tifa stood in the kitchen in front of the hamper of laundry she had been in the process of carrying into the small side garage to wash and glared accusingly at one of his shirts. He was cheating. Cloud Strife was cheating!

It was bad enough that he'd been around lately. Not 'around' but – around! Cloud's job took him out and about a great deal. Tifa was used to it. Cloud seemed to need to roam just as strongly as he needed to come back home. After the geostigma though he had been making it a point, whenever he could, to be home by dinnertime. It let him eat with the children, it let them have time to spend with him before they had to go to bed, it let him sit at the bar afterward and unwind, going over the messages she'd taken for him and the routes he'd plotted out with the children earlier in the night. It let them spend time together after she'd shut down the bar at one in the morning. He'd help her clean up and then they'd relax together with a movie or talk or more often, simply not talk, snuggled up on the couch. She liked that Cloud was making it a point to come home to them… to her now.

Realizing she was starting to smile at the shirt, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the immediate.

For the past month, Cloud Strife had been seducing her. Not in a way anyone else would recognize but to her it was as obvious as the sword he carried on his back. Yuffie, for instance, was absolutely convinced they were both obtuse about each other – which probably wasn't helped by the fact that whenever she showed up both Cloud and Tifa intentionally acted as dense as two brick walls. It had been particularly hard to keep a straight face the last time though. Yuffie had brought in a magazine with a 'How Do You Know If He's the One' quiz and insisted that Tifa take it with her. Cloud, plotting new routes and sitting at a nearby table in the closed bar, had been behind the tiny ninja's back and out of sight – and, of course, made the briefest, 'Cloud Strife' grimaces with his face over each of the questions. Which had been, to Tifa, as loud and easy to understand as if he'd actually been making the snarky comments out loud. She'd had a hard time pretending she was serious while she answered the quiz with the most clueless answers she could think of. Clueless answers, she was proud to say, that had made Cloud choke on his drink at least once. Yuffie had left disgusted with both of them when, at the end of the quiz, Tifa had managed to give her a friendly, vacuous look at her prompting and Cloud had acted as if he hadn't even been aware of the quiz taking place at all. Later that night, curled up together, he'd kept making her laugh as he quoted ridiculously extravagant quiz questions in monotone and then prodding her with his impression of Yuffie's "like… you know… a certain s _ooooomeone_ …"

So the man was seducing her and… and doing it really well, she had to admit. She realized she was holding his crumpled up shirt over her heart and snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing. Which was the laundry.

And plotting revenge. Or at least some kind of viable defense.

Of course, she wasn't entirely faultless. She had decided two could play at the seduction game and she'd done her fair share of teasing in retaliation. She was particularly proud of the way she'd shifted from the bathroom to sitting on the bed when she smoothed the lotion on her legs just before going to bed each night. He seemed to always make it a point to be present for that.

The problem was he was cheating.

She gave his shirt a little shake. It was hard to tell if she was imagining it was a mini-Cloud or if it was the kind of gesture you'd do with a dishrag at a misbehaving dog.

It was bad enough his hands were staring to _drag_ when he touched her. He was still using the innocent touches that pretended they didn't mean anything but now when his hand would 'accidentally' brush her stomach on the way by or 'helpfully' push the hair back off her neck or 'incidentally' rest on her hip when they were standing near each other, it would… _drag_ when it moved off of her. The touching was bad – wonderful – bad enough, she told herself with a shake of her head as she forcefully shoved his shirt back into the laundry basket with the other clothes. It did all the bone melting, stomach gasping, heart knotting feelings to her but when his fingers and palm _dragged_ , slow and warm and solid, against her as his hand slipped away…

There were rules, gosh darn it! And she couldn't play by them if he was busy making her want to either bite him or tackle him to the floor.

That man was cheating!

It wasn't just the… dragging either. He'd taken to nuzzling. Cloud Strife was a nuzzler! It was… horribly devastating because half of the time it wasn't even meant as anything other than sweet and innocent. The other half of the time of course, standing behind her while she tried to talk on the phone, or cook dinner, or get something out of the storage closet – well, the other half of the time it was the exhale of his breath like liquid fire against her skin and weak knees and roller coaster stomach. But the times he did it innocently… oh, he melted her heart and soul in the unconscious moments when he rubbed his cheek or his chin against her, usually when he was half asleep and not aware, seeking or sharing or giving comfort and reassurance. There was something amazingly defenseless and intimate about his unconscious nuzzles.

She smoothed a hand over his shirt with a soft smile, eyes distant.

The tinny sound of dropped metal, small enough to indicate a tool of some kind, came through the door to the garage and brought her back to reality. Cloud was taking a day off to work on Fenrir. He insisted the machine needed a tune-up even though she suspected it was just an excuse to play with his favorite toy. One of his favorite toys, she amended with a smirk and shifted the hamper to her hip.

The garage was going to be hot. Despite the weather outside, the small, windowless room held heat from the boiler and now it would hold the heat from the dryer too. Cloud had the same resistance to heat that he did to cold though. Maybe she'd sit in there with him though since the kids were gone with Barret for the afternoon. It was normal for them to keep each other company even if it was without a single word of conversation and doing entirely different things. It was just… better when they could be in the same room.

She pushed the door between the rooms open with her free hip and let herself in. Usually when he was in the garage the family respected his private space and left Cloud alone. He'd wander out when he wanted their company. But today was laundry day. Today was always laundry day and Cloud knew it. In fact, he'd asked earlier before declaring he was going to be working in there on Fenrir so she didn't feel bad about intruding.

With a soft noise, she dropped the hamper on the floor in front of the washer and then turned, hands on her hips and relaxed, to make a comment.

Whatever she'd meant to say flew right out her ear as her mind went blank.

Cloud Strife, flat on his back, had pushed himself out from under Fenrir and now proceed to lever himself up on his elbows. Tifa's eyes blinked but that was the extent of her reaction.

Cloud Strife, live in 'he's the one' and partner in crime as well as child raising, was looking at her with a raised pale brow and…

"Where's your shirt?" She was proud of how calm and steady her voice came out. One of his shoulders shifted and his lips relaxed. She noted the smear of grease across his side where he'd absently rubbed a hand… and the way the muscles in his side there overlapped and melted so smoothly into his flat stomach.

"It's hot," was his perfectly logical, perfectly mild answer.

"yeah…" she agreed weakly. The edge of his mouth hooked upward into one of those smirks she remembered so well and it snapped her back to herself. In one smooth move she stooped down, scooped up his shirt and threw it at him in a ball.

"Cloud Stife, you're doing that on purpose," she accused watched the other edge of his lips twitch upward as well. He caught the shirt on reflex and used it to wipe his face. A single bead of sweat escaped the collection and slid down the long column of his throat.

"What?" he asked calmly. "Trying not to overheat?"

"Yes! No – you – "

The pale brow jerked again and the blue eyes were laughing. Part of the game they were playing though was that you weren't allowed to call the other person on it when they were flirting with you. You were supposed to act unaware. She shot him a narrow look and he just innocently tilted his head to the side.

She thought he had the nicest throat and it melted down into the smoothest, strongest set of shoulders…

With a stifled noise in her throat she spun around and started to load the washing machine.

"You're a terrible man," she told him and he hummed his agreement, sounding pleased and amused. She concentrated on the clothes, separating lights and darks and checking both the children's and Cloud's pants pockets before committing them to the wash. She was not going to drool. She was not. He was cheating again and she was not going to give in first.

That… that – man!

That… very handsome, stunning, well built, shirtless and sweaty man who was only a few feet away from her…

An muscled arm reached past her and she jumped, swallowing down a hiccuping noise. So intent on ignoring him that he'd come up right behind her and she'd missed it. His throaty chuckle near her shoulder was devastating.

"What are you doing?" she didn't dare turn around, she was already far too aware of exactly what – and who – and in what state – was standing directly behind her.

"Returning my shirt," he answered helpfully as he set it in the pile of whites she'd had on the top of the dryer as part of her sorting. She could smell him, that pleasant smell of sweat and Fenrir and lightening wind and male.

"That's dark…" she managed and he made a humming noise as if he was actually interested. She swallowed against a dry throat. He was so close she could feel the heat of him but somehow, maddeningly, he wasn't actually touching her. She cleared her throat and tried again. "The shirt. It goes in the dark pile."

He made another humming noise to show he was listening and taking her words to heart and she thought she felt the puffed exhale of his breath against her throat, tickling through the hair she'd pulled back in a ponytail for work. His other hand found the dryer on the other side of her and braced there, strong, long fingered hands sporting nicks and oil stains.

"We should probably put it there," he offered, voice dark honey, shifting as if he was moving his face – his nose, she knew he was inhaling the scent of her hair because he did it when he thought she wasn't paying attention sometimes.

"Mm," she agreed helplessly, her own hands shifting to brace against the dryer as well but it was for support. Oh, Gaia… the man was being feral…

"Teef," his gravel voice was amused. "It's in the white pile. My hands are covered in grease."

She made a little sound in her throat that had been intended to indicate understanding and instead came out a little like a squeak. In response to the noise, his arms on either side of her shifted inward and she felt the press of his body against hers. Nice, good smelling, hot, hard, male Cloud body –

His hands found their way to the skin of her stomach where the shirt she was wearing left it exposed and _dragged_ as they wrapped around her. She felt him bury his face in her hair and realized, in shock, that his breathing wasn't steady.

"Cloud…" his name came out soft and wrapping in the things he did to her and she heard him exhale a pleased sound against her. His fingers, slick with oil, rubbed gentle circles over her bare skin and then tightened, indicating need and restraint. His voice was quiet as he said:

"Not until you ask."

The only reason she was still standing, and not a puddle of jelly on the floor, was the fact that he had her pinned between himself and the washing machine. She forgot why she was supposed to be ignoring him.

"Cloud?"

Again the amusement sounded in his throat even if it didn't make it past his lips. Lips that he lowered to rub against her bare shoulder.

"Tifa…" the way he said her name held absolute adoration and a surprising tinge of gentle frustration. His arms went around her completely and pulled her entirely back into the curve of his body. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that I'm waiting – for you?"

"Me?" it came out weakly, repeating from habit the last word said whenever her mind needed time to catch up to what was going on. His chin found her shoulder and he rested the side of his face against hers, closing his eyes. For some reason it was just as devastating as his hands earlier had been on her skin except this time…

this time it was her aching heart that was threatened.

"You," he agreed easily. "Since I was about six."

She tilted her chin, just a little, and looked at him from the sides of her eyes.

"For?" she prompted softly and his lips smiled, just a little. He opened his eyes.

"For you to notice me. And then for you to love me." His lips twitched. "Then for you to realize you loved me." He exhaled. "And then for you to realize I loved you."

They weren't talkers, either of them. They were much better at showing each other what they felt than explaining it. But his brows were a little down and his eyes were dark. He'd apparently given this a great deal of thought. Reaching up she rested her arms over his, hugging him to her. She turned her face to nudge him gently with her nose, burying his revelations deep in her heart where she knew she would listen to them over and over and over again. He'd said though…

"What are we waiting for now?" she asked him softly. He made a low sound in his throat in answer and his hands shifted to find hers, fingers intertwining.

"For you to realize I've always loved you and it never changed." His blue eyes lifted and found hers and they were the color of the mountain sky on a clear morning. One edge of his mouth lifted. "And for you to ask me to kiss you."

Her heart stumbled over the first but what popped out of her mouth was the second.

"I have to ask?"

"Mm," his brows were down as he nodded seriously, even if his eyes were amused. His fingers moved against her skin, making hers do so as well since they were twined so tightly with his. Throaty voice an exhale against her cheek, he thoughtfully added: "Soon would be good too."

"Cloud – " she protested it. It was one thing entirely to play and flirt and tease… and even, in a safe way, seduce. It was another entirely to just come out and state what she wanted. She wasn't – she'd never been able to do that. And somehow, she realized he knew that too. Wrapped safe in the warmth of his arms it was easier to face… but actually doing so was entirely different.

"Not until you ask," he murmured against her shoulder as he lowered his head. The bare skin there got a soft kiss despite his words but then he straightened and let go of her, keeping one of her hands in his.

"Come on," he tugged her hand, "help me with Fenrir."

He was giving her space without leaving her. Letting her adjust and absorb without crowding her for an answer. He was being sweet and patient with her.

He was being gentle.

She refused to move and it pulled him to a stop since she refused to let go of his hand too. He paused and looked back at her with his breathtaking body and the soul hiding inside it that was even more breathtaking to her. Both parts of him were scarred. But it was okay. She was scarred too. His eyes were accepting but not expectant.

"Could you – " it caught in her throat and she looked down. Struggling. Soft, his voice found her.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes!" her eyes jumped to his, hurt he would even ask. And yet… there was something about the question…

"Then ask me."

Did she trust him? Really trust him? With more than the simple things, with the complicated things too? With… her? After all these years, after all they'd been through, after all they'd both done to each other… did she trust him?

"Kiss me?"

It came out weak and helpless and lost, but her eyes found his and there was hope there too. Something in his own eyes seemed to relax as well and it was something that never had before. He stepped back to her.

"Yes," he exhaled against her lips. She had a second to shiver at the way that felt… and at what she'd just stepped forward into, and then his mouth was slipping over hers.

It was soft and sweet and lingering. Something inside her sighed out and she swayed forward into him with a quiet sound. A low hum answered in his throat and his arms came around her, tucking her protectively in against his chest, in the shelter of his arms. As if they had all the time in the world, his lips nuzzled against hers, slowly luring her deeper. She was surrounded by the scent of him, the heat of him, the solid strength of him. She was surprised to find that, as the hot oil started to settle into her bones and joints, a strange sense of peace settled into her heart at the same time that felt the same way. His lips shifted and she followed, feeling him smile without breaking the kiss as the move sealed them closer together. When he finally drew back, just enough so that their noses bushed each others, she was warm and liquid and wonderful and she didn't open her eyes.

"Again?" she asked in a whisper and heard his chuckle before his lips found hers again.


	14. You Don't Call Her Baby

"Why don't you ever call her 'baby'?"

Reno was, obviously, pretty far gone in his cups to ask the question and Cloud's eyelids barely flickered as he did his best to pretend the red head wasn't in the same city, much less same room. Reno however was intent, the thought lodged in his sluggy brainpan process and he dropped his elbows on the countertop hard enough to make one of Cloud's eyes twitch at the sound of bone hitting polished wood. Reno would feel that in the morning.

Contrary to popular belief, Reno didn't often get drunk. He drank – but he was too professional – and too rightly paranoid to over do it. Most nights.

Most nights Cloud didn't have more than a single drink himself, more because it was 'normal' than because it effected his metabolism. A cup of coffee had more of an effect on him than most booze. But tonight he'd put down three of Tifa's hard drinks and was slowly, methodically working his way through a fourth. Most nights he would have tossed Reno out of the bar since technically it was closed. Most nights.

Most nights however weren't the anniversary of the dropping of the Plate on Sector Seven back when there had been a Midgar to drop things on. And most nights weren't a reminder that most of AVALANCHE felt just as responsible for that drastic step as the Turks that had carried it out. So it was, perhaps, a type of penance, that Cloud and Reno both ended up in the same closed for the night bar, trying to drink their way towards a night, for once, without dreams. Two sides of the same guilt with just as much reason to blame themselves as blame their impromptu drinking partner.

Reno, for the moment however, had swallowed enough to move past silent guilt and into a thoughtful kind of musing stupor.

"Yo!" One of those elbows prodded Cloud's arm and Cloud shifted without thought on his bar stool to break the contact. Reno persisted.

"Chocobo-boy – you never call her 'baby'. Or 'cuddles'. Or 'lover' or 'squirt' or 'bombshell' or 'racks!'…"

The last nickname had Reno pausing in blurry eyed, smiling contemplation and Cloud cleared his throat and shifted again. Shaking his head, Reno pulled back to his current quandary, focused hard to remember where he'd been going with his line of thought and finally asked:

"You two are a thing – yeah? So why no stupid love names, yo? Or – " his smirk went sly. "You save those for calling each other naughty things in bed?"

Cloud was tempted to just shut his eyes and tune the red head out but that left the disturbing option of leaving Reno to imagine what kind of 'naughty' things he and Tifa called each other in bed and he couldn't tell if he was more uncomfortable with the idea of the red head thinking of them in bed or the red head's no doubt creative store of names that he would fit into the mental imagings.

"Tifa's not a baby," his voice was a bit throaty and he cleared it again, blaming it on the liquor after a day of silence on his part and not the mental images that had flashed through his mind at the mention of 'Tifa' and 'bed' and 'him' and how much of a Very Good Idea that sounded like right now. This instant.

If she wasn't stashed upstairs in the kids' room, sleeping next to Denzel so he wouldn't wake up alone tonight of all nights…

"Sure she's not," Reno slumped forward onto the bar, arms across it while he stared at his drink. "But s'what guys do for their girl, right? Call 'em cutesy names to show they love them or some shit like that."

Cloud contemplated it.

He loved Tifa. Always had. Always would. And it was finally out in the open and cleared up for them to the point where they both felt as if it was okay to show it in their own quiet, private kind of way. He had always wanted to please her, make her happy and he knew he was stunted when it came to things like social interaction. Some days he was almost afraid to come home, thinking over something he'd said without thought that morning that could have come across wrong or worried that her silence or his silence earlier in the day _meant something_ and he was just too dense to figure it out. This was all new to him and he had no template to base his actions off of. Would a good boyfriend call Tifa 'baby'?

Tifa. Baby?

He's heard a few drunks too far gone in their cups call her that before and she seemed to react… poorly to it. Brows wrinkling over his eyes, still staring at his hand wrapped around the glass, he carefully stated:

"I don't think Tifa likes being called 'baby'."

Reno rolled his head and contemplated the ceiling through one eye.

"What about 'honey'?"

Cloud's chin ducked a little while he thought that over as well. 'Honey' wasn't a bad word. Honey was sweet but it was healing too, soothing and strong and he liked the way it looked when she took the jar out and the sunlight would catch in that amber color and make it look like trapped sunshine.

Then he tried to imagine himself slipping the love name into a conversation with her and his lips curled in disgust.

"I can't call her 'honey'," he stated flatly.

"Sugar buns?" Reno suggested in sing-song and Cloud made a noise low in his throat.

"No."

Reno sighed and finally got one arm under his cheek, thoughtfully turning the glass in front of him.

"Well, ya gotta call her somethin', yo. It means you're a couple, right? An' you want everyone to know you're a couple. Especially her. S'bonding or something."

Cloud blinked and frowned down at his own drink. Realizing he hadn't touched it recently, he took a swallow of it and then set it back down. He'd heard about couples doing things, small, intimate, private things that made them feel more like… well, a couple. And he heard people call their significant other silly things before. It had just never occurred to him that _he_ should.

What if Tifa wanted him to call her something silly and sweet? What if she was waiting for him to call her 'honey'. Or… or something else. He remembered the way her eyes had gone all soft and liquid and warm and happy the time he'd referred to her as his 'sweetheart' when he'd had to clarify their relationship to Marlene. So… maybe he was supposed to call her something when they were together in private…?

Dumb-founded but determined, now that it had been brought to his attention, that he was going to do this right by her, he scoured his brain for an appropriate term. Reno, seeing the furrowing, helpfully offered:

"Heart of my soul? Baby-cakes? Snuggle bunny? Muffin? Jugs?"

"No." Cloud was firm and the look he shot Reno wasn't exactly friendly. Reno snorted laugher and turned his face into his arm to stifle it. After a minute, voice muffled, he said:

"You gotta think of something, bright boy. Girls like the mushy stuff."

"Cloud?"

Tifa's voice came to him from the stairs, soft and sweet and warm, wrapping him up in acceptance and belonging. He turned toward it as naturally as if she had a string to his soul and she'd just tugged.

She was standing on the last step, feet bare, sleep mused and soft looking. All pale skin and dark, welcoming eyes. She was beautiful and she was home and she was everything he'd ever wanted and so much more than he'd ever expected. Her face was a little worried – about him – and a little tired and the only face he would always see when he closed his eyes and thought of the way his heart hurt and lightened at the same time. He wanted to pick her up and carry her back upstairs and soothe all that tired worry away. He wanted to tuck close in her arms and not dream tonight because she would guard him. He wanted to see her smile and be her hero and he wanted to hear her scream his name again the way she had last week when the kids had been staying with Barret.

He wanted her to stay with him forever. Even if he couldn't find the right love name to show her that. Because all that came out when he opened his mouth was:

"Tifa."

"Aw, hell," Reno grumbled next to him. "Never mind, yo. You've already got your stupid sweetheart name."

Which didn't make sense to Cloud at all but Tifa's eyes still softened and went happier and more relaxed when he said her name and it made his own shoulders unknot in response. She held out one of her hands.

"Everyone's piled onto Denzel's bed. But it doesn't feel right yet." Across the room her eyes found his and he was moving, pushing awkwardly back from the bar before she even finished speaking. "Would you come too?"

His legs felt steady enough and it didn't take many steps to reach her. Without a word, he picked her up in his arms and carried her back up the stairs. To his waiting family and the place he belonged most in all the world. Reno sniffed as he watched them go. Then he looked back at his drink.

"Looks like you an' me are closing down the bar again." He thought about it a minute and then lightly patted the top of the glass. "Snookums."


	15. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While I agree that Tifa is human and should struggle with forgiving Cloud for leaving during ACC, most people seem to forget one thing.

"I don't know how you put up with him sometimes."

Tifa looked over from where she was wiping the last counter clean and over at Yuffie – who was putting new water rings on the fresh wiped counter with her half finished drink. The young ninja was twirling the colorful straw she'd insisted belonged in a drink like that absently and had her cheek resting against her other hand. It was… a surprisingly contemplative look for the other girl and Tifa set aside her cleaning rag to walk over and rest her own elbows on the counter.

"Cloud's Cloud," she explained. The same way she explained it a hundred times and wouldn't mind doing a hundred more. The words might seem unhelpful but it was the way she said his name that filled in every blank and smoothed away every wrinkle of confusion. Yuffie tipped her head, bright little dark bird eyes watching her.

"Yeah," she said and it was strangely serious. "And you love him anyway."

They were alone in the empty bar and Tifa's lips lifted into a soft smile that made her eyes melting chocolate.

"Yes," she could finally admit out loud and it never seemed to grow old. "I love him."

Yuffie was peering intently at her and Tifa could all but see the gears grinding away in that sharp little mind of hers. Yuffie tipped her head again and her lips frowned. She fidgeted restlessly in her seat without lifting her cheek from her palm. More little circles of condensation got made. Tifa watched her curiously. Something was up with the young girl – young woman – Tifa mentally corrected herself.

"You're happy with him?" Yuffie's dark eyes peered up under the fringe of dark bangs and headband, almost nervous about the answer, but Tifa just nodded and made a humming sound.

"I'm happy with him."

"Even though he left you?"

The other girl said it almost carefully and tact coming from Yuffie really meant something. It was still an uncomfortable lance down through Tifa's heart. But it was a splinter that she acknowledged and had accepted and each day it got just a little bit smaller. Nothing lasted forever. Not pain… but… maybe joy did. She let her hands fall silently to the counter and wove her fingers together. Brows down, she nodded again.

"Even though he left me."

Left her because he was dying. Left her because he was hearing Sephiroth's voice in his head and the last time that had happened he'd almost killed and then beaten a flower girl that had followed him like a puppy and never offered him anything but smiles and teasing. Left because his ghosts had become more real than his life.

Left because, for Cloud, there was nothing more unforgivable than being useless to the people he'd decided to protect and care for.

But he'd still left. And she'd been alone. With two children and one of them dying and all three of them waiting, like the pause between breathes, for him to come back and make them all whole again.

"Hey, Teef?"

Yuffie's voice pulled her back from the memories and she looked at the younger girl to find concern in those dark eyes. She offered a small smile.

"It's okay, Yuffie." She relaxed her fingers to reach out and take the other girls' hand. "I'm not going to fall apart. Cloud's back with us now and he's staying."

There was, perhaps, just the hint of a hard edged determination in that last sentence… but it was all right. Sometimes, she thought she saw it in Cloud's eyes when one of his deliveries called to ask him to take longer than usual to be gone from home. They weren't perfect. Not even close. But they were young and they were still learning. They'd make it. Tifa believed it deep down where her soul lived and that's why the splinter that was only slowly fading out of her heart wasn't as sharp as it should have been and didn't hurt quite so often.

"I know!" Yuffie was quick to agree and it made the edges of Tifa's lips curl. Yuffie saw it and felt the need to elaborate. "You guys kick ass. And – you'd kick Cloud's ass if he tried to leave again. And he knows it. And then he'd have to get in line so we could all kick his ass as well." Her eyes narrowed. "He's so stubborn."

It pulled the quiet laugh out of Tifa and she let go of Yuffie's hands to automatically pick up the towel to wipe away the swirling trail of water. Whether it was subconscious or not, Yuffie's hand immediately moved to make more with the untouched drink. Tifa chased it absently across the bar top for a minute until Yuffie finally stopped and with those serious eyes, peered at her again. Yuffie always peered when she was measuring or trying to figure something out.

"But – how do you forgive him? For… hurting you? How do you make it okay when you look at him so that it doesn't feel like little weasels have your heart and they're gnawing on it with their tiny little teeth?"

It sounded as if Yuffie wasn't asking it in a purely theoretical way and Tifa looked at her a bit closer. Who was Yuffie trying to forgive? Who'd hurt her so badly she didn't forgive it automatically? The little ninja was a bundle of energy… but she had feelings just as much as any of them and they ran just as deep. Tifa wound her fingers in the bar rag and exhaled. For a long moment she was silent and it was a show of just how much Yuffie really cared about the answer that she didn't interrupt or even fidget. If Yuffie was expecting Tifa to be the perfect example and sure shot answer… Tifa felt a little bad. She wasn't a very good role model to follow. But she'd try.

"I think – " she started and then shut her mouth for a minute more, brows over her eyes. "I think it's easier to forgive because he's always forgiven me. Or – " she paused again. "He's never held it against me in the first place."

Yuffie snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Teef," she drew the name out. "You're – Tifa," she said it as if it were an explanation all by itself. "Chocobo Head doesn't have anything to forgive. What'd you do? Spit in his juice for breakfast one morning? Use the last of his shampoo? Oh!" Her grin went bright. "You put a smudge on Fenrir with your 'grubby little fingers', didn't you?"

The younger girl took a strange delight out of the time Cloud had half-admonished, half grunted at her with those words about his precious bike. Tifa chuckled but then the smile faded a little and she shook her head.

"No. He's got plenty he could hold against me if he wanted to."

Yuffie wasn't buying it, obviously believing Tifa was just trying to make the judgment on Cloud a bit lighter by pretending she deserved some of it too. But Tifa swallowed and her smile faded.

What did Cloud have to forgive her for?

How about a childhood in which she never reached out to him? A childhood in which she was so caught up in herself and her young, little world that she noticed – but never did anything but notice - the little blond boy with the sad eyes always right on the edge of her life. Children were cruel – and careless. Tifa had always hoped she wasn't the first to him – he certainly didn't remember anything – but she had been careless and she would do almost anything in her power now to go back to then and tell her younger self to look beyond her own problems and notice someone else's.

How about a fall that had been only her own stubbornness and stupidity but that had sealed his fate as an outcast and a loner in their village? How about never noticing how the village had changed toward him after her recovery? Never asking or wondering about the whole story of what had happened to her in the mountains. How about letting him bear blame that had been entirely hers all of his childhood?

How about a promise that meant too much to either of them to let go – but that was a constant wound waiting to happen and buried so deep inside Cloud it was never coming out? An impossible request – that he took seriously and flogged himself over missing the impossible mark on. No one could be everywhere at once. Bad things happened. It wasn't his fault. But that promise, that treasured, loved, protected, binding promise they both held to – Tifa knew it wasn't healthy for him. And yet neither of them would let what had been a little girl's impossible whim and innate desire to have something to draw the little blond boy back to her one day, go.

"I didn't tell him," she settled on and her voice was soft in the dim lighting of the bar. Yuffie looked at her, a Marlene curious look, and Tifa's lips shifted rueful and tilted at their edges in a bitter smile. She met those curious eyes.

"I found him in the train station in the Midgar slums. He was sick and dressed as a SOLDIER and I took him back to the bar and got Barret to hire him to join AVALANCHE."

Yuffie nodded. Everyone knew that story. Tifa nodded back.

"He thought he was SOLDIER First Class and it wasn't until the Northern Crater that we found out he wasn't."

"I know," Yuffie had been there for some of it and she'd heard the rest over and over again. It was a familiar tale. Tifa met her eyes.

"Yuffie… I knew. I knew all along he wasn't a SOLDIER. I knew he wasn't telling the truth. I knew something was wrong. And I didn't say anything."

That was a part of the story they didn't tell, because Tifa never talked about it and only Cloud knew for sure. And Cloud… he never talked about those times at all. Tifa's shoulders settled as she leaned forward on the counter top.

"I knew something was wrong and I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him he was remembering things that hadn't happened. I didn't tell him that his stories weren't real. I knew – and I didn't tell him."

"Teef – " Yuffie tried to interrupt but Tifa raised her hand. Yuffie needed to understand – because no one seemed to realize what she was saying.

"Yuffie, even when he asked me, I avoided answering him. I knew he was saying he was one person – and I knew he wasn't. It confused me. It scared me. And it made me doubt my own memories. But, all along, I knew. And when Sephiroth finally confronted him about it – right in front of me – I was no help to him at all. He relied on me, Yuffie. He relied on me to tell him what was real and what wasn't, to tell him who he was – and I didn't. I was a coward. I knew he was counting on me – and I hide from it instead of being what he needed me to be. And it almost killed him. It shattered his soul and his heart and I've always wondered if, deep down, it might not have shattered him so hard if it hadn't been my betrayal of his trust that had led to it. Cloud almost lost himself – and it was my fault."

"But – it was Sephiroth messing with his head! It was Sephiroth's fault!" Yuffie protested, eyes wide and Tifa shook her head. Not about to let her responsibility slip this time or try to foist the blame off on some boogieman.

"Sephiroth isn't the one that Cloud counted on. I was. And I'm the one that was too scared to tell him the truth."

Sometimes… she was still too scared to tell him the truth. But she was getting better. Gaia – she prayed she was getting better.

"He was walking along the edge of a cliff and I knew it – and I never told him he was in danger of falling. I thought that if I stayed close enough, if he started to slip, I could catch him – but he did – and I didn't. He might have fallen anyway – but it's my fault I didn't even warn him." She met Yuffie's eyes.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you? Yes. He left me and the children. It hurt. It was wrong. But long before that I betrayed his trust in me and let his soul be shattered under Sephiroth's heel. Cloud's not faultless. But neither am I. How could I ever withhold myself or my love or my forgiveness from him when he's so desperate for it when he doesn't even acknowledge how terribly I failed him?"

Yuffie's lips were parted, as if she was going to protest and defend Tifa from her own accusations. But nothing came out. Finally, the younger girl shook her head and frowned.

"Nobody ever told me that part."

One edge of Tifa's lips crooked.

"Most people don't know it and the ones that do don't seem to realize it. Cloud hasn't forgiven me for it. He acts as if it was the only sensible thing I could have done and doesn't even seem to think it was wrong of me. I honestly don't know if I would do things differently even now. But I do know what I cost him and I do know how it hurt him. And I know that he has never once blamed me for any of the things I have, carelessly or not so carelessly, done with his soul. Everyone likes to blame Cloud for leaving and pretend I'm this perfect, long-suffering goddess for taking him back. He doesn't care if they think that way about him. He thinks he deserves it. But he doesn't. Does it hurt that he left? Of course. But he's never held mistakes I've made thinking they were 'for his good' against me. I'm not as generous as he is – but I'm going to make myself that way. Because he deserves it. Because it's only fair. Because I love him and that's what you do when you love someone. I learned that from him. Even if he wouldn't believe me if I told him so."

It was quiet for a long time and Tifa plucked the watered down drink out of Yuffie's hands and rinsed it out in the sink. When she came back to wipe off the counter, Yuffie was looking at her thoughtfully.

"That's pretty wow."

Tifa made an amused noise and smiled.

"Tell me about it," she agreed. Yuffie's smile started and spread like the rising sun.

"You two are pretty wow together."

It made Tifa break into a grin even as her cheeks dusted with color, still getting used to the concept of 'together' but liking the sound of it. Outside in the night, the familiar growl of a bike approached and then slowed and died out. A few moments later, the door to the small garage opened and a dusty, tired looking Cloud trudged through the narrow door. The stairs to the rest of the house were right there but he turned from habit to search the bar first. Almost invisible his lips relaxed and, just possibly, curved a little as he shifted his path and came in behind the counter. Tifa was soon rewarded by the comforting weight of him as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned forward into her, both sheltering and seeking comfort after a long, hard day. She didn't care that he was dusty and sweaty.

Cloud was Cloud.

His chin rubbed against her shoulder, as physically affectionate as he was willing to get in front of curious ninja eyes and then he raised his own eyes, tropic sea blue, to look at their guest. He didn't give Tifa words – but he'd never needed to. Words had never been their best way of communicating and she thought she preferred it that way.

"Yuffie." He acknowledged their tiny visitor and she gave him a cheeky grin.

"You know," their resident ninja told him. "You're pretty okay. For a Cloud."


	16. Facets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> years ago I did a challenge where I had my readers send me words and I had to craft a sentence out of them. I've rarely been so challenged or had so much fun with figuring out how to write something

1\. **velvet** _(Sekihara Tae)_

After years of sensory deprivation, sanity shattering pain and stale, mute surroundings, the sudden sensation of Zack's hair against his cheek was almost too soft and _normal_ to bear.

2\. **concupiscent** _(Sekihara Tae)_

It wasn't fair, he mused darkly, that after he'd missed out on most of his adolescence, all Tifa had to do was lean forward to get something from under the bar to have his riotous hormones deciding he was sixteen again.

3\. **gyneolatry** _(Sekihara Tae)_

When he saw the man in Seventh Heaven for the sixth time in two weeks, Cloud mulled darkly, it wasn't that he minded if Reno seemed to love everything female, it was when he focused that adoration on a very specific one that it was time for him to go home.

4\. **potent** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

He was a dangerous mix of little boy and pure, virile male, she thought in bemusement as he trudged through the bar and up the stairs, entirely unaware of the way every female eye in the place, hers included, followed him.

5\. **wings** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

When the bridge broke and she fell, for the first time in his young life he realized with slowly ruined faith - some angels couldn't fly.

6\. **misery** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

He thought he'd known pain before; nothing compared to the way it felt lying down to sleep each night in an empty ruin far from the warmth of his family that he'd come to anticipate at the end of each day.

7\. **diaphanous** _(Fairheartstrife)_

Her heart shown brilliantly through her opal and garnet flecked eyes and the tears of joy in them when she whispered a single word to him: "Baby."

8\. **syzygy** _(ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie)_

She thought Cloud and Barret were absolute opposites; until it came down to how far they were willing to go for what they believed in and the people they cared about.

9\. **Momus** (or Momos) _(mom calling)_

She was supposed to be the kind, encouraging, motherly type that kept their strange traveling 'family' from tearing each other apart, so she fought very hard not to smile when he flippantly called Barret 'a bear wearing a marshmallow'.

10\. **hippopoto-monstroses-quipedalian** _(Oreramar)_ _ps - ffnet apparently doesn't approve of your word and keeps erasing it when I save this document_

He had to turn his face to hide the smile threatening to leak through as he took in the children's faces after Tifa casually rattled off the spelling of the longest word she knew, hands behind her back, eyes closed like a school girl.

11\. **dragon** _(Oreramar)_

When he came home after a particularly hard day, feeling gruff and scaly inside, Tifa just smiled and whispered that she'd learned the secret to defeating monsters like him from a goofy stage play at an amusement park years ago; he pretended to be disgruntled at her teasing and had secretly been glad when she hadn't stopped at just one – or just at his hand.

12\. **mother** _(Oreramar)_  
When Marlene slipped up and called Tifa the name, he watched the light bloom across her face and contemplated how different the word sounded when it was spoken by a small girl with sunshine and smiles as opposed to a silver madman with dead eyes.

13\. **amaranth** _(Oreramar)_

It wasn't the flower of legend that would never fade but, when he found it pressed between the pages of one of her books years later, its colors still held just as much hope and heart as they had the first time he'd given it to her in the slums.

14. **purr** _(vluna)_

Cloud was a man of few words but very vocal in his expressive noises: one of her favorites was the sound he made at the end of a hard day when she would find him almost asleep on his desk and firmly rub her fingers through his soft hair and over his scalp.

15\. **panties** _(vluna)_

He recounted taking them all those years ago so that Barret would understand – _he_ had the prior claim to her.

16. **umbrella** _(punkiemonkie)_

Leaning into him, sheltered from the wind and cold and rain by his form, she decided she needed to forget her rain gear more often.

17. **loyal** _(peeka-chan)_

Everyone thought she was the faithful one of their couple but only she knew that _he_ came and found her just as many times as it went the other way when one of them had strayed.

18\. **miss you** _(peeka-chan)(peeka can get away with a sneaky two words because she edited almost my entire TWT and frankly, I'd give her just about anything she asked for after that)_

She didn't say the words but each time she left a message on his phone… he heard them; he heard them because each time she left a message on his phone… he wanted to say them too.

19\. **buried** _(peeka-chan)_

The only way to keep the memory of tender feelings safe from the nightmare world of gleaming silver scalpels, whispering, invasive voices and searing green was to lock it away so deeply that even he forgot about it.

20\. **prestidigitator** _(Sekihara Tae)_

Yuffie had no idea why, when, yet again, she was bragging about having 'magic fingers' that Tifa suddenly went bright red and looked everywhere but at the man next to her while Cloud just smirked down into his drink and refused to answer her demands for an explanation of what was so funny.

21\. **redolent** _(Sekihara Tae)_

He would never tell her that, every other night, he switched their pillows just so he could bury his face in the one she'd used the night before.

22\. **broken** _(fairheartstrife)_

Neither of them ever used Fire Materia and they never had to mention it to each other when the small stones were handed out before battle; the smell of burning flesh and the crackle of flame was too familiar and too often heard in dreams.

23. **voluptuous** _(fairheartstrife)_

He pitied the men that had only just realized she was beautiful; he'd know it over a decade ago, when she had still been twig arms and her curves were all just knees and elbows.

24\. **ambrosia** _(fairheartstrife)_

She made the dessert of oranges and shredded coconut but he thought the flavor of the concoction was best when he stole a taste of it off of her finger and made her cheeks go pink.

25\. **seraphic** _(fairheartstrife)_

As his mouth traveled down the curves of shoulder blades and the dip of arching spine, he was glad she didn't have the wings she should; they would only have gotten in the way.

26\. **bodhisattva** _(mom calling)_

He never told her, but, as many years as they were together, every now and then he'd feel a twinge of guilt that she'd chosen to stay with him and live the awkward, strange, unpredictable life they did instead of choosing a man that could give her the world on a gold plate and make sure he was never late so she never had to worry.

27\. **sortilege** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

Cloud so rarely lost his temper everyone was surprised when their leader calmly and silently threw Cait Sith out the door the first time after Meteor that the stuffed cat offered to read his fortune.

28\. **caramel** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

It took three days to get the sticky brown substance entirely out of his hair and he suspected the only reason Tifa was too compassionate to laugh at him was because it had gotten there in the first place when it had fallen out of Marlene's mouth as they'd both fallen asleep on the couch together during a thunderstorm.

29. **zoo** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

It didn't start occurring until after the Cure but when Tifa caved on the first frog Denzel brought home it was the pebble that started the avalanche and from that point on, Cloud never knew what furred, scaled, fanged, clawed, slimy or feathered situation he was going to have to step over, around, or gently nudge through when he came home after being gone several days in a row.

30\. **paternity** _(Valentine'sNinja)_

Matching DNA strands had nothing to do with it she mused as she watched Denzel give her the exact same quiet, vaguely reproachful, stubborn look from under his bangs that Cloud had when she told him it was time for a haircut.

31\. **riddle** _(Iskra revoir and plushie family)_

Chin resting in her hand, elbow on the table, Tifa watched, bemused and proud and mystified, as Cloud, apparently effortlessly and without prior instruction, silently wove a cat's cradle with yarn for Marlene.

32\. **miracle** _(Iskra revoir and plushie family)_

Despite everything he'd ever been through, the first time Cloud Strife really prayed was the day Tifa went into labor too early with their son.

33. **if** _(demonegg)_

When his word grew so filled with the 'what might be' and the 'what might have been' that he lost track of what was, she was always there to remind him that they needed milk for dinner and that he should leave his dirty clothes in the hamper because tomorrow was laundry day.

34\. **fifteen** _(demonegg)_

As he grew older, his memories continued to settle but from time to time he would look over at the woman next to him and, for a moment, to him, she would still look like a fearless, innocent mountain guide holding his heart in her hands without even knowing it.

35\. **cookie** _(demonegg)_

If you give a Cloud a cookie, he's gonna want some milk…


	17. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern AU. I sometimes try to write stories made of nothing but dialogue. I usually fail.

"She's hot!"

"Zack… shut up."

"No, man. I mean like _hot_."

"Zack – "

"Dude, pull your head outta that manual and smile at her when she comes over. She's – bombshell hot. … yowzah hot. 'If I wasn't already taken I'd – "

"Zack!"

Zack relented but only with a reproachful look at his friend whose spiky head still hadn't risen above his book to gape at the stunning waitress taking care of their section of the café.

"I'm tellin' you, man…" he murmured through half closed lips as she swung over toward them, giving him a glorious view of just how nice those uniform shirts could look on the right figured girl. Sure, he was happily taken but a guy had to notice someone like _that_.

Except for Cloud apparently, who only shifted his empty coffee mug from the inside of his book and held it absently near the edge of the table.

"Smoooo – kiiin."

"Zack."

"Hi!" There she was with a smile, practically glowing with the happiest eyes Zack had probably ever seen… seconds before she bent down and planted a generous kiss on the lips of the blond, navigating the book as if it were second nature. A kiss which, to Zack's astonishment, Cloud returned and didn't exactly rush through either. If blue eyes could smirk, the blond's were as Cloud finally came up for air and gave the man sitting across from him a lazy smile over the top of the book.

"Zack. This is Tifa. My girlfriend."


	18. Because the Kids Say Its Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its a family matter

Tifa was a bar tender. Cloud understood that.

She was also an incredibly sexy-beautiful-gorgeous-generous-warm-soft looking-ass kicking-devastating-innocent-exotic-curve in all the right places–drive a man mad-take all the pain away-gentle-possible biter if roused the right way-tender-motherly-certainly ** _not_** motherly-Gaia, why is she with me?- woman.

Cloud understood that too. Really, really well.

Men were visual creatures with too much confidence for their own good when they got drinking.

Cloud understood that as well.

So while Seventh Heaven had become much more of a 'family friendly' establishment than its predecessor, it still had a bar and that meant it still had men who came in to finish their evening off drinking. Most of the men were regulars who knew enough to look but not touch and to be careful about even looking when a certain blond haired swordsman was in the room. Cloud didn't blame them for wanting to look and he didn't even blame the ones that lost their minds and fell in love with her.

It was hard to judge a man harshly when it was the same problem he had – especially since he'd had it longer than any of them and wasn't even thinking of fighting the addiction anymore.

It didn't mean he liked it and it didn't mean he didn't make it a point to let his disapproval show when he deemed it necessary.

Unbeknownst to him, the 'family' atmosphere of the place had increased while the 'drinking establishment' one had decreased after he'd made his decision to start making it a point to be back home by sunset every night.

Now he was sitting at his usual table in the corner, nursing a drink, plate empty of food next to his elbow while he looked over the map and delivery notes in front of him and figured out his route for the next day. His sword was propped against the wall behind him and he hadn't taken a shower yet. He'd gotten into the habit of washing up but saving the shower for just before he went to bed. Tifa always took her shower before she went to bed so that she could wash the smell of smoke and alcohol and cooking out of her hair and after accidently discovering she tended to need to comb her fingers through his hair when it was wet, he'd quickly taken up the habit too. Even if it meant he used cold water and the kid's bathroom while she used the one that let off of her room.

That was definitely going to change soon.

In the meantime though, he behaved himself. Which included distracting himself with delivery routes instead of shower fantasies that would only end up frustrating him. Blue eyes focused on the map in front of him and he mentally charted lines across it. He enjoyed seeing how straight he could make the lines between points and how much he could fit into one of them before he had to make an adjustment in another direction. It was a challenge to see how much time he could trim. Which didn't mean he didn't sometimes take the long route just because of somewhere it would pass through.

A warm hand fell on his shoulder and he felt the soft touch of a kiss laid on top of his head. It made his lips shift upward at their edges automatically and he made a soft humming sound in his throat as Tifa slipped away, taking his plate with her, a full glass of cold water in its place. When he knew she had her back turned, he lifted just his eyes, mako bright under his shaggy hair, and watched her walk away.

She put an extra sway in her hips and he knew she'd caught him anyway.

Despite himself, he smiled as he looked back down at his paperwork and traded the drink for the water. All day on the bike dried him out. Even though he'd never mentioned it, she somehow knew anyway.

He finished plotting his route and finished his water at the same time. Accomplished with one thing, he set the pencil down and buried his chin in his fists as he rested his elbows on the table. His eyes, finally not hiding what they were doing after years of pretending otherwise, automatically found and traced the barkeep as she wound her way between tables and behind the polished bar. After the geostigma incident, he'd promised himself he was done hiding, done pretending, done stalling.

Done letting her stall.

Tifa, for all her ability to pile drive a man through three floors and a basement if she wanted to, was almost painfully shy in certain areas. It had taken him an unforgivable amount of time to realize it. She was so open and friendly and giving, it was easy to miss the fact that she could be too giving. Which meant she would bury her own wants and needs and feelings in favor of someone else's and that when it came to what was really deep and guarded inside her heart, it was almost impossible to get to her admit to something. It was as if she were too used to disappointment to give her desires acknowledgment and therefore the ability to hurt her by failing. Her real emotions reminded him sometimes of one of the miniature key deer that had lived in the woods near their village when they had been children. Elusive and shy and prone to run and hide at the first sign of danger to them.

Small and frail - and impossibly trusting and soft if you could coax one close enough to touch.

His mother had taught him to lure the key deer out with lumps of sugar and patience. As his eyes followed the woman behind the bar, he was grateful to his mom for unwittingly teaching him about so much more than tiny red deer.

Tomorrow was his delivery day to Wutai. He went once a week, always on the same scheduled day. He'd picked one in the middle of the workweek because that was when Seventh Heaven was slowest in the evening. Before the geostigma, he had stayed the night in Wutai and then come back the next day. Since the geostigma he'd taken to pushing himself and Fenrir and making it home at the crack of dawn the next morning. It was running him ragged but he found he hated sleeping in a strange bed.

Possibly because it was a strange _empty_ bed.

The thick soles of his shoes rubbed absently against the wooden floor under the table and his brows came down. He was getting very tired of only sleeping when the bed wasn't empty next to him. It was getting very hard not to take advantage of how snuggly she always got first thing in the morning if he woke her up early. Especially hard because he knew she wouldn't hold it against him if he did. Except…

Except.

Except there was too much in their life together that just 'happened'. Too much that was more the result of a coincidence or situation than a real and determined choice on their part. He wasn't protesting. It was what had gotten them where they were. But he wanted her to know it wasn't 'just because' or an 'oops, well, let's just take it from here' type of thing when he finally committed entirely to her. It was vitally important – to him – that she know and understand and never doubt.

He'd given her too many reasons to doubt already and not even realized it most of the time.

It was something he'd been giving a lot of thought to for a while now.

Across the room and over the top of the bar, she cocked an eyebrow at him and he realized he must have been scowling at her unintentionally while he both stared and worked over the problem in his head. Since he'd never in his life, to his knowledge, actually scowled _at_ her seriously - in response to her teasing didn't count - she knew well enough to know it was something else going on inside his head.

Her reflexes were still fast enough though that when the guy at the edge of the counter tried to cop a feel as she went by, he ended up with his wrist twisted and pinned to the bar top instead. The guy was an unfamiliar face and obviously didn't know what he had gotten into. She made eye contact with the man, which broke her eye contact with Cloud, and gave a mild shake of her head.

"No."

Tifa gave her patrons a two-chance rule.

Cloud gave them one and as Tifa came over to him to ask what had been on his mind, he was already pushed back from his chair and standing.

"Sit," he told her gently and then he was striding past. The new guy saw him coming and fear flickered into his eyes. Cloud knew he had a reputation and most of the time he ignored that fact. The guy's face was twisting and Cloud knew it meant either a sneer or an apology was on its way. He didn't pause to find out which. Instead he simply reached out, spun the bar stool around briskly, caught a solid fistful of the back of the guy's shirt and jacket, and, holding the fabric over his shoulder, strode for the door. It served to bring the man in the clothes with him as well. The sputtering started in as the shock wore off just as Cloud hit the door and he pushed it calmly open and stepped outside. It gave him the room he needed and without much effort, or thought for that matter – he was following a thread of an idea forming in his head – he snapped his arm casually around and released.

Possibly for the first time in his life, the guy flew.

The bar didn't let out onto a busy street and there was a convenient alley just across that street from their front door so the guy didn't impact with anything before coming to a natural skidding stop on the rough asphalt almost a block down at the other end of the alley. Pre-Shinra times, the incident might have met with a police report but in this post-Shinra time things were much simpler and as Cloud turned and went back into the bar without bothering see if the guy got up or stayed down in shock for a while, the other patrons of the bar gave him a nod as he strode past and that was the end of the incident.

Tifa sat at the table he'd vacated with a dry look on her face, slowly twisting his empty water glass around in a circle.

She might fool everyone else with her 'I keep the barbarians civilized' face – and Gaia knew, she was the only civilizing factor in her family most of the time – but Cloud had long ago noticed that she never actually protested when he threw someone out. He was careful not to hurt them. Much. He gave her an unrepentant lopsided grin now instead and she shook her head with a sigh and stopped hiding the smile that had been whispering at the edges of her lips. He went down on his knee on the floor and turned the seat of the chair to face him and raised his face.

"Oh, Cloud," her voice was velvet and wine as she leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stole a kiss and against his lips, she sighed: "What am I going to do with you?"

They'd come a long way since the geostigma. He was ready for them to move further.

"Come with me tomorrow."

She nodded against him, showing her automatic trust, and asked:

"Where?"

"To Wutai. And – " the sudden idea caused him to blink it was so right. "Cosmo Canyon on the way home."

"On your delivery?" she drew back but her arms didn't leave his shoulders and so he was content. She looked at him closely. "But that's a two day trip."

He nodded, well aware of how long it took. She gave him a look that said he was being dense.

"Cloud," there was a smile in her chiding. "What about the bar? And the children?"

"Close the bar," he knew it was money they wouldn't be making but some things were more important. "And we'll ask Elmyra if she can keep the kids a couple days more. If she can't," he shrugged, "we'll force Reeve to."

She laughed at his joke. He knew the kids would want to come too but he also knew, once he explained what he had planned, that they'd gladly stay behind.

Of course he was going to tell the kids. He was learning that that was part of what being a family meant – being all in, all together. They'd keep his secret.

Hopefully it wouldn't have to be a secret for too long anyway.

He watched as the idea of going with him, of traveling again, of adventure and seeing familiar places took a hold in Tifa's mind, setting the light in her eyes growing to match the smile on her lips.

She really was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Yes," she nodded, more enthusiastically. "All right. I'll talk to Elmyra." He got another encompassing hug and, since someone else had tried to touch her earlier, he took advantage of it and pulled her down into his lap. She went with a soft hiccupping sound that could have been a protest but might have been a giggle and she didn't try to slip away, instead tucking her legs against either side of his while he kissed her.

They'd come a long way. Just a few steps more…

Eventually she did have to slide out of his lap and go back to work. His smirk was a bit smug at the pink in her cheeks and the extra bounce in her steps as she did so however and he didn't miss the 'lucky guy' glances shot his way either. He knew he was. Despite all the bad, he was one lucky guy. He straightened up and calmly collected his work for the day. Then he walked behind the counter to return his glass.

"I'll call Elmyra," he told her, surprising her, but he needed to talk to the kids too and it was a good excuse. Then he was going to have to go out for a little while. He always did before his Wutai trips, collecting last minute supplies.

Cloud knew how things were supposed to be done. They'd never been good at doing things in order though. He'd give Tifa anything she wanted. But, in the end, he thought they probably just both wanted the same thing.

His supplies to Wutai would include a wedding band this time around.


	19. Because Yuffie Says Its Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its a friend matter too

"No, Tifa. Like _this_!"

Yuffie was determined and Tifa couldn't help but watch with a certain mixture of exasperation and laughter as the smaller girl dipped impossibly far to one side, impossibly far to the other and then finally backward to release a long square of brightly colored silk. Tifa, holding her own silk handkerchief, stifled a laugh.

"You look like you're drunk. Or on a ship and sea sick."

"Hey!" Yuffie spun around to scoop up her fallen handkerchief with a pout. "I'll have you know that's the way _professionals_ do it!. It's like dancing. Only boring. And you gotta make sure your handkerchief lands in Cloud's lap. Don't let some other guy end up with it by accident."

"I am _not_ throwing bits of cloth at Cloud tonight." Tifa's arms got crossed over her chest. As if that would somehow distract from the red on her cheeks. Yuffie snorted laughter.

"Oh, come oooon, Teef! You two are like practically engaged. I mean, you two hardly even came up for air last night at the koi pond."

Tifa's eyes went wide and if anything her cheeks only got redder. It was hard to tell if it was with embarrassment or anger though.

"You saw that?"

"Duh," Yuffie rolled her eyes dismissively and returned to her exaggerated swaying, silk popping up in the air to flutter over her shoulder. "I AM the Great Ninja Yuffie. But come on! You guys are all official and all now. Everybody knows it. So you gotta take the next step and get engaged so everyone can ooooh and aaaaah over the ring and all. And that means you've gotta give Cloud your handkerchief."

"Yuffie," Tifa was chiding now and she shook her head. "I'm glad we accidentally showed up for your festival. I really am. But throwing things at Cloud at the party tonight isn't – " she paused and exhaled and Yuffie stopped stomping absently on her own handkerchief. "I don't need to do that kind of thing with Cloud. He knows how I feel. And – I finally know how he feels. So it's okay if we take some time and just enjoy what we've got. When he's ready for whatever comes next… he'll be ready."

"Aw… that's really zen of both of you," Yuffie sighed peacefully, eyes shut. And then proceeded to wave her hands in the air, silk flaring as her eyes popped open again. "But it's too slow! I want wedding cake and I wanna let off stink bombs at the reception. I want Cid to give drunk toasts and I wanna get pictures of Barret pretending he's not crying and I want Cloud to force Vincent to wear something other than that leather and felt he lives in. What about me? What about MY needs? Have you thought about _those_?"

"Gee, Yuffie. I hadn't. Thanks for pointing out how selfish I've been. I'll get right on fixing that." Tifa had been around the little ninja long enough by this point that she had no hesitation in dryly answering that tirade.

Yuffie started cackling.

"You never let me get away with anything anymore, Teef." She bounced over to link her arm through Tifa's. "I'm just teasing. Geez, like I really care if you guys get it together or not." After a minute, she added thoughtfully: "Maybe if we tied a stone to your handkerchief and nailed Cloud in the forehead with it at the party he'd get the hint."

(~)

The night sky was full of man-made stars. Tifa held her own lantern as Cloud set flame to the small candle inside it, and the warm, gold glow soon spread from the paper to paint both of their faces in its warmth. Slow she lifted her hands and just as slow the tiny paper lantern filled with hot air and drifted up to join the myriad of others already drifting in the quiet night air. She knew it was probably a fire hazard but it was a Wutai tradition to celebrate the beginning of autumn and she thought they were probably used to any dangers floating paper lanterns could cause. A long silk dragon with a myriad of differently clothed pairs of legs wove in between the lantern setters, left over from the more boisterous streets and party of earlier that night, stopping in front of Tifa to shake it's huge head and wink a brightly painted tassel eyelid at her before steaming off, its tail made longer by the laughing children that were chasing after it. Tifa though it had been a long time since she'd felt so…

"Young."

Cloud's soft voice near her ear caught her attention and she turned into him as he stood next to her. In the golden night, he slipped an arm around her waist and she leaned a little into him.

"What?"

"You look young," he answered just as softly as her question. When she looked at him he was looking up at the lanterns in the sky but her move had him glancing down at her face and his lips shifted, almost shy and a little embarrassed looking. They'd come a long way together but each step forward was one they'd never taken before and there was a certain amount of care in the way they treated each other. To show him it was all right, Tifa let her head rest on his shoulder and felt it relax under her.

"I feel young. Like… like it's been forever since I remembered to enjoy the simple things without worrying about them."

"It's been a long time since it was safe to be young," he murmured, eyes going back to the floating lights in the sky. A sky empty of burning smoke or metal Plate or dying meteor. A sky full of nothing but moon and floating paper dreams. All ready some of the smaller lanterns were starting to sink and people dressed in brightly colored costumes ran between the small groups of waters, trying to catch them before they could touch the ground and taking bright leaps over the ones that already had before scooping them up as well. Tifa thought that Cloud's face looked young too. She was glad he'd asked her to come with him on his Wutai delivery this time and a part of her wondered if he'd known the country would be celebrating their Mid-Autumn Festival. Cloud had a way of giving her gifts while pretending to be unaware that he was giving them.

"The kids would have loved this," she murmured and found that, at some point, she'd turned more into him and both of his arms were around her now. She slipped her own arms around him in turn, still watching the sky through the fringe of his hair. He made a soft sound and rested his chin against the side of her head.

"Next time we'll bring them."

And it made her heart feel lighter because there would be a next time. They could plan on 'next time' now. Finally. She hugged him a little tighter and sighed out in contentment.

"Next time," she agreed.

(~)

"So it was pretty cool, huh? They don't have parties like that in Edge!"

Yuffie was still bouncing, though nicely enough she'd settled down to bouncing on the sleeping pallet on her side of the room. Tifa had agreed to spend the night with her for what Yuffie insisted was 'girl time' and Cloud had good naturedly been banished off to his own room, which happened to have been the one they'd first all slept in as a team while chasing a madman across the Planet. Now Tifa, clad in her pajamas, folded the colorful, quilted jacket Yuffie had given her to wear to the party with a smile for the other girl.

"You're right. Edge doesn't. It was a lot of fun, Yuffie. We had a lot of fun tonight."

Yuffie made a face but it was obvious she was happy as she flopped down onto her back.

"I know! That's why Wutai is the best place ever. Better than boring old Edge."

Tifa gently set the jacket aside, hiding her smile. Yuffie loved to brag and she loved her home country… but she spent an awful lot of time in Edge for a place that was 'boring'.

"Cloud and I talked about bringing the kids next. It would be nice to have the whole family get away on a trip."

"You guys really like that whole 'family' thing, huh? 'Daddy Cloud'." Yuffie broke off onto snickers and Tifa stifled her own smile. Cloud was still working on the 'dad' part – but he was trying and the kids knew it. That was what really counted. The other day he'd even called Denzel his son in front of someone else. It had made Cloud blush – but the look on Denzel's face for the rest of the week had been the most beautiful thing Tifa had seen in a long time.

"As if you didn't enjoy being 'Aunt Yuffie'," Tifa teased right back, settling down on her own pallet and starting to brush out her hair for the night. Yuffie grinned.

"Aw, Marlene and Denzel are awesome! I don't mind playing auntie to them. They're devious."

"Don't encourage them," Tifa chided mildly, getting ready to stretch out in her own bed.

"Hey, hey!" Yuffie interrupted. "You gotta get your handkerchief. You put it under your pillow so you'll dream about who you're gonna marry. Did you get it back from Cloud?"

Tifa rolled her eyes and rolled over to grab the folded jacket.

"I didn't throw it at him in the first place, Yuffie. I told you – Cloud and I don't need to – "

The handkerchief was in the wrong pocket and she pulled it out, curious to find it heavier than a square of silk should be. A little puzzled, she shook it out into her hand.

The simple ring of unadorned gold caught the light from the lantern and glowed warm.

Something in her sudden stillness must have tipped Yuffie off because the other girl was suddenly next to her shoulder, looking at what she was holding. For a long minute they both stared in utter shock. Just as Tifa's throat started to tighten with impossibly happy tears Yuffie let out a whistle.

"Ooooor I guess you could skip the engagement ring all together and just go straight to the wedding band."


	20. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the end it all comes back to Them and Home. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

It had been a long, hard day. He wanted something warm to eat, his bed and a shower. It didn't matter what order they came in. His face felt dry and gritty from the blown sand, his leather rubbed uncomfortably through the fabric of his shirt and his hair was plastered against the back of his neck and his forehead with the remains of his dried sweat.

Most days he enjoyed his job. He loved speed and he loved Fenrir and he loved being outside. His job gave him the excuse for all three. And, on a deeper level, he loved being able to do something for other people that didn't involve having the fate of the entire planet resting on his ability to kill someone. He loved fighting. He hated killing other people - save one. He'd never quite lost the sick feeling it usually left in his stomach.

Delivering packages across a vast expanse of land that most people didn't feel safe traveling though made him feel useful. Seeing the smiles, hearing the pleased and surprised sounds… that made him feel good. Most days it was enough.

And then there were days when nothing went right and he really did wish he could kill certain people and being outside meant enduring the miserable weather.

Today had been one of those days.

The light was just starting to fail as he reached Edge and the shadows were already long and swallowing by the time he reached the little street that turned down to the place that always called him back. With motions so practiced he didn't have to even pay attention, he slipped Fenrir to the side of the building and dismounted. The door to the small garage/storage/laundry room was already up. She always made sure it was up for him if she knew he was on his way back.

It counted as extra indulgence on the days she did it when he was coming back in the rain.

He dropped his bike's kickstand and reached out to pull down and lock the garage door. He always locked it even though only someone that was entirely out of their mind would even think about trying to steal this particular bike out of this particular garage. He ran a gloved hand over his face roughly and felt grit on his skin. His eyes felt dry behind the goggles he hadn't gotten around to pulling off yet.

Food. Shower. Bed.

What had she said she was making for dinner tonight, he wondered as he pushed the door between the garage and the kitchen open. Something with noodles. He still didn't recognize most of the food she made. He just knew that it always tasted delicious.

Noodle Something… Noodle Supreme? Surprise? Sunset? His boots fell heavy as he stepped into the kitchen. They felt heavy. He was going to fall into his bed and act like he'd been hit with Stone Stare and everyone had run out of softs.

Which was when the door between the kitchen and the rest of the house burst open with enough force to have his head snapping up in defense. He caught a blur of black and peach and suddenly Tifa's body was impacting with his. He staggered back and hit the jam near the garage door with a grunt and that was about all the time he had before her mouth was over his.

Under his goggles, his blue eyes went huge.

Her arms twined around him and her body pressed into his and – he groaned at the things she was doing with her mouth to his. Instinctively, his arms came up around her and his fingers fisted in her hair without him even thinking about it. Responding to her was as natural as breathing for him and the kiss she had started accelerated rapidly as he got involved with it too. Soon there were grunts and gasps and clothing was falling to the floor with almost fierce determination. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he was aware that the bar must be closed. That the kids were with Elmyra this week. And that Tifa usually only got this throw down, knock out aggressive for a few very limited reasons. Despite himself he started to smile as his hands slid under her to scoop her up so she could wind her legs around him.

"Bad day?" he managed and her mouth found his again.

"You have no idea," she answered; breathe like fire against his skin as he lifted her.

"Good," he mumbled against her mouth, as he stumbled for the living room. "Mine too."


End file.
